The Man Who Knew Too Much
by nicitta
Summary: The Apocalypse has been averted, but heaven has other plans. In light of these events, what would have happened if Castiel had done the right thing? If he had taken his concerns to his best friend Dean instead of making a deal with Crowley... How would that have changed the course of the show? A sort of alternate Season 6. Not a Slash fic.
1. Prologue

**Thanks again to the lovely ****Ninjakittee** for her **Beta work on this Chapter... and probably the rest of the story lol :P Did I mention that she's awesome?**  


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_Evolution is a curious thing._

_For thousands of years it has run its play across the world. Silent, disregarded, but ultimately extremely effective. Slowly and steadily it moves through the sands of time, making every single particle of this universe subject to its force. Every step of it is part of the plan, the perfectly laid out plan to make the world what it is supposed to be._

_I have seen many steps of evolution take their course in my time. I remember often marveling at the beauty of it all. The seemingly complex natural order, derived at the core by a surprisingly wonderful simplicity. My unchallenged faith once built upon the belief that no such depth of perfection could ever have been brought forth without the nurturing hand of a divine father. My Father. The creator of all things._

_The underlying simplicity of evolution lies in its one basic rule that trumps everything else: What is meant to be will be. What is meant to survive will survive. Thousands of beings and species this world has seen since the dawns of time, yet only a certain amount of them have managed to live to see this day. Some humans call this God's will, others natural selection. They are both in fact right. For the reason that these particular species have outlived their natural competitors is that they have established themselves as the strongest and most remarkable creations from my Father's hand. They have survived because from the strength at the core of their being, they were always meant to survive._

_Human kind is one of those species. In fact they are the most extraordinary of all of them, for God created them as His children as much as He did us. I know that several of my brothers have always resented Him for this, thinking that He chose to love some earthly, disposable experiment more than He did His own heavenly warriors. I pity them for this, because I know that very few of them have ever seen into the hearts of mankind the way I have been able to. They failed to notice the breathtaking beauty in these, the most exceptional of all our Father's creations._

_Yes, they are flawed. Yes, they make mistakes. But for all their numerous imperfections, most of them never stop trying to do better. No matter how many times they fall, they somehow still manage to gather the strength to get back up. They love, forgive, never stop fighting. Even under the shadows of pain, guilt and confusion, they are capable of making the right choice. Because what matters is not the grand plan that destiny has laid out for you… But to make your own choices and stand up for what you believe is right. I learned that from Dean Winchester._

_The one man who changed everything._

_From the moment I first laid my hand on him in the fiery pit of hell… I could sense the righteousness of a heart far braver than any other I have ever witnessed in a human being. Even in his darkest hour and the most evil environment… it did not remain hidden to me. The courage of a true warrior, the undying loyalty toward his loved ones and an unequivocal sense of knowing what is right… These traits are so fundamentally fused into his soul that I don't believe any amount of darkness could ever achieve victory over them. And the worst part is that he does not know this. He does not believe himself to be worthy of any praise one would normally offer a man as magnificent as him._

_He deserves better than this. He deserves better than to watch his brother lunge into the deepest pit of hell to save the world, thus losing the one thing that means everything to him._

_I know him well enough to know how broken he is. Even now as I watch him from my corner on the street through windows of the dimly lit house, sitting at the table with the woman and child from whom he seeks solace… I can see the despair hidden in the eyes of a man who has lost everything. He will never be able to heal from this. Nothing will ever make it right._

_And yet the peaceful atmosphere of the street corner brings with it some new air of hope, however distant. Catastrophe has been averted. The world is still here. After all the carefully laid out plans that heaven has been constructing for millennia, human kind has still managed to prevail. And after everything that he has been through… Dean Winchester is still standing. Because what is meant to survive will survive._

_Against all odds, I have survived too. Through bringing me back to this life and to the former glory of my being, God has restored my faith in ways I never thought possible, making it stronger and more powerful than ever before. I know now that He has never really left us. The perfect plan I once believed in so strongly has not been an illusion, my Father still has a plan for all of us. And so His plan for both myself and Dean is for us to go on. Our work is not yet finished._

_Some part of me longs to stay here with him, to somehow help ease the pain my friend is in. But I know the only thing that would really help him is to give him back his brother… And that is something I cannot do, however much I want to. I have turned my back on home for too long now. It is time for me to return._

_As I steal one more glance at my friend through the window, I somehow know that he will be all right. What is meant to be will be. And the remarkable creature of Dean Winchester was always meant to be._

_With a silent nod of farewell I lift my wings to return to heaven._


	2. Chapter 1

**The credit for Beta work once again goes to ********Ninjakittee**. Whoever sees this should go read her stuff now! You won't regret it, promise ;)

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_There was nothing he could do. They were done for. The gaping black hole grew wider and wider as he struggled to hold onto his brother's hand. A violent wind forcefully threw its tantrum around them, roaring down into the howling abyss. Blowing them slowly to their doom. Even in full knowledge of the hopeless situation he was in, he still desperately clung to that hand, willing himself to not let go no matter what. But it was in vain. He could not prevent his brother's fingers from slipping out of his grasp, regardless of how hard he tried._

_In a fit of utter despair he opened his mouth to scream his name, but no sound came out. As if the howling wind was keeping his panicked sobs locked within his throat, choking him with the truth of his own failure. His failure to keep him safe._

_And then suddenly the scenery changed. They were both swallowed entirely by the abyss, that dark and grim chaos of thunder and lightning and greenish light. He looked around himself, terrified to the bone. He knew this place, knew it only too well. His eyes darted around to make out the endless rows of chains and racks, the mere memory of all the endured pain making his limbs fire up in agony. Most of the victims were clouded from his vision, their forms shady and out of focus. All but one. Strapped to one of the racks in his close vicinity, he could see the writhing, distorted figure of his little brother, his tormented screams piercing him to the bone. The victim's bloody face turned upward to look at his tormentor in a desperate plea, those big, beautiful and pained eyes begging him pitifully to stop. However the dark figure just laughed like the cruel creature he was. Lucifer._

_His heart raging with pain and anger and hatred and all the protectiveness that he had felt all his life, he approached the figure, wanting nothing more than to rip him into a thousand pieces for doing this to his brother. When he was but moments away from lashing out, the tormentor turned to face him._

_He froze dead in his tracks at the sight before him, the enormous shock preventing him from all further movement. For the creature standing before him was not the devil._

_He was looking into the black-eyed mirror of his own face._

. . .

Dean woke from his dream with a startled jolt, his head forcefully shooting up a few inches from his pillow. He panted for air while letting himself drop back into the soft down, raising his hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead. It took him a moment to remember where he was, but his mind caught up quickly at the feel of a warm hand gliding over his chest and pulling him into a loving embrace.

"Shh, it's ok…" Lisa whispered in his ear, moving closer to him under the covers. "You're ok, Dean, it was just a dream…"

As she placed a tender kiss on his cheek, he let out a big sigh, releasing all the tension from his body and turned over on his side to face her.

"It wasn't real," she murmured, leaning her forehead against his and drawing soothing circles on his back. "Just a dream…"

Dean closed his eyes and tried to let himself be comforted by her words, even if only temporarily. It had just been a dream. He wasn't in Hell. He wasn't torturing people. He was here with her. None of it was real.

Only that wasn't entirely true. At least part of it was real, as he painfully had to admit to himself. He worked hard to keep his face composed as the images he was trying to repress threatened to crush his chest and seal it off from all possibility of breathing. He tried to keep himself calm for her sake. Too many nights upon his arrival in her home had been spent by the kind woman trying helplessly to bring him back from his state of near catatonia. Too many times had he woken her with his desperate thrashing. Although he knew she wanted to help him, he couldn't bear the fact that he was causing her pain. She didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve her.

And yet she was here. A warm body in his arms, her soft skin brushing his, her wonderful scent offering nothing but comfort. She was the rock that he was clinging to, the light that was somehow holding the broken and bruised pieces of his soul together. He would even have said that she was his angel sent from heaven, he thought sarcastically, if he hadn't had his fill for eternity of all those flying ass monkeys. He was holding onto her for dear life. Life he wasn't even sure he wanted.

But he'd made a promise.

While they both lay quietly in each other's arms, the sky outside the window slowly lit up with the arrival of dawn. Dean wasn't sure if he had nodded off again or if time just passed really quickly, but within a short while it was time to get up. Another day, another dawn.

The morning started off with their usual everyday routine. Lisa roused Ben for school and Dean helped her make breakfast for the kid, finding his way around her kitchen better with each passing day. The boy then sat silently, shoveling the scrambled eggs into his mouth, his eyes mostly trailing his busy mother while occasionally stealing a shy glance at Dean. Since he had been living with them for almost two weeks now, Ben wasn't nearly as wary of the older man as he had been in the beginning, but he still seemed slightly cautious. And who could blame the poor kid, Dean thought grimly to himself. A weird, messed up man that he had met briefly a million years ago one day just decided to show up and move in with him and his mom? Yeah, he could imagine how that would be slightly disorienting. Quite frankly, he was surprised the kid wasn't more dismissive of him, cause right about now he himself would've seriously considered kicking his own ass if he were in Ben's position.

As he caught the boy shooting him another hidden glance, Dean cleared his throat and tried putting on a casual, relaxed expression. Cheerful was too much to ask.

"You good?" he asked, nodding his head toward Ben's plate. "Want some more toast?"

Ben shook his head and turned his gaze back down to his eggs. Well, it looked like he was getting the silent treatment.

Meanwhile he noticed Lisa bustling around the kitchen in more agitation than she usually displayed in the morning. She was slicing open several of her letters with a letter opener while pacing back and forth between the table and the kitchen counter to take notes on a little notepad. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, her silky brown locks slightly dancing around her from her restless movement.

"You look like you could use some help," Dean remarked, quirking his typical smile at her.

Lisa raised her head up from the letters and smiled in return. "No, that's all right, thanks," she said, affection briefly lingering in her eyes before she returned her focus to her chores. Dean caught Ben glancing back and forth between him and his mother once more. He barely had time to feel guilty before Lisa spoke up again, her voice urgent and distracted by one of the letters she was eying.

"Hurry and finish up, sweetie," she said to Ben, her tone slightly stressful. "I've got some bills to pay before my ten o'clock, so we should get going…"

Seeing her son speed up his eating process in obedience and highly aware of her busy schedule, Dean was struck by a sudden flash of insight.

"You know, I can drive him if you're busy," he offered shyly. This earned him a surprised look from Lisa and a wary look from Ben, but he managed to uphold his mask of composure, even if he was in fact very nervous on the inside. "If that's ok with you." He added with a quick glance to Ben.

The boy shrugged. "Sure, why not?" He shoved the last few bites of his breakfast into his mouth and got up to go get his school bag. Dean slowly strode over to take the keys from the counter next to Lisa and stopped when she briefly laid her hand on his. "Thanks," she said and showed him a genuine smile, which he reciprocated if only faintly. "No problem."

The moment he sat in Lisa's car he felt weird. This was the first time since he had moved in that he and Ben would be spending longer than a few seconds alone together and he found that he had no idea what to say to the boy. On top of that he couldn't deny that the family car was making him feel very disconcerted, as he backed the huge thing out of the garage and onto the peaceful, suburban street. There was something extremely _off_ about not driving baby, plus the fucking thing was a monster! It wasn't the first time he was driving it, but he still didn't like it. It was like a huge joke at his expense. Knowing how there had once been nothing that made him feel more at home than sitting behind the wheel.

The first few minutes passed in silence as they drove along the quiet street, the colorful autumn trees passing by from time to time. Their leaves had already begun to fall. Dean shot several glances over at Ben, who sat nearly immobilized in the passenger's seat, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. The hunter opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find something to say.

"So… school," he finally said, making his voice sound as cheerful as possible. This caused no reaction in Ben whatsoever. Great, so it looked like he would probably make a frickin' fool of himself trying to get a single word out of the kid. "What kinda classes you got?"

Ben shrugged. Well, at least he was no longer a statue. "You know, the usual." Dean kept a casual smile on his lips while waiting for the boy to tell him more but nothing came. It took him a lot of effort to not sound exasperated when he tried to carry the conversation further.

"Like what?"

This earned him a slightly skeptical gaze from Ben, as if he was trying to assert Dean's intentions. "Like History and English and Chem class." He then said in a slightly bored tone.

Dean chuckled in reminiscence. "Hmm, Chem class." He nodded in understanding and grinned at the road.

Ben huffed in annoyance next to him. With a slight frown Dean turned to face him. "You don't like it?" He wanted to know. Ben snorted.

"Why, you do?" He fixed an incredulous stare at the hunter, his interest now obviously spiked.

Dean kept his eyes on the road, but he still glanced at him from time to time, trying to bring his point across. "Well, they fix you up in pairs, right?" He explained, taking a turn out of the suburban housing area and onto the main road as he waited for Ben to catch on.

"Yeah, so?" He wanted to know, his brow now furrowed in confusion.

"So…" Dean went on, shooting Ben a smirk. "If you're lucky, you get paired up with a cute girl."

He cocked an eyebrow at the kid and his spirits heightened instantly as he saw Ben smiling for the first time that morning.

During the rest of the drive Dean felt that the boy was slightly warming up to him, telling him about his boring, uptight chemistry teacher, who always taught her classes in extremely stilted language and apparently no sense of humor, therefore awakening the suspicion of having had a giant broom shoved up her ass sometime in the past. Dean listened in silent amusement as Ben laughed about her. As if he didn't know _that_ from somewhere. When he finally pulled over to the side of the road in front of the lively school building, he felt a hundred times more relaxed then upon first getting in the car.

Ben hesitated for a moment, picking up his backpack from the floor, obviously not sure what to say. "Thanks," he offered quickly before opening the door and hopping out onto the sidewalk. "Hey," Dean said, drawing the boy's gaze back on him as he waited to close the door. "Have fun!"

The encouraging smirk he displayed next to the words made the corner of Ben's mouth quickly twitch up into a half smile, before he nodded and slammed the door shut. Dean's smile was replaced with a soft line of thought stretching across his forehead, as he watched the boy walk up the front steps of the building and disappear into the school. He couldn't help but remember the last time he had brought a kid of Ben's age to school in the morning. Usually a new one every few weeks. He remembered how much Sammy had hated that. How bad he had felt about not being able to give his little brother the normal life that he wanted. It now seemed like a lifetime ago. Almost like another world. A world where his brother had been safely tucked away inside something as normal as school instead of…

_No_, he stubbornly told himself while restarting the engine. He was not going there. He was not going to risk crashing Lisa's car in a sudden fit of despair. He could already feel the tightening sensation closing in around his chest, the same pressure threatening to crush and strangle him until there was nothing left. Careful to keep the car steady on its track, Dean breathed deeply as if trying to reassure himself that he still had room for his lungs, that there was nothing confining him. He tried keeping his thoughts on Lisa, pleased with himself that he had managed to help her with some of the stress that she was in today. For all the pain he was causing her at night, he might as well try to be useful during the day.

When he arrived back at Lisa's house he found the kitchen and the living room empty. He guessed Lisa was probably at the computer, taking care of the bills she had mentioned before. Dropping the keys back on the counter, Dean slowly stepped into the perfectly clean kitchen and headed for the fridge. He hesitated for a moment after opening the door, staring pensively down at the half empty case of beer that had seemed to almost scream out to him from the moment he had stepped through the front door. The damn suckers were tempting him! It wasn't even nine in the morning for God's sake and he was living with a frickin' eleven year old! Oh yeah, he was gonna be one awesome role model.

However after a few moments of having a staring contest with the beer, Dean finally gave in and grabbed one. He sighed heavily while popping off the lid and striding over into the living room. Maybe it wasn't a good idea but he needed this now. After following the habit of drowning his worries in alcohol for almost all his grown-up life and even before, it was kind of impossible to just stop in such a short period of time. Well, at least it wasn't whisky or anything. That had to count for something.

Dean paused his pacing in front of the window and raised the bottle to his lips to swallow a giant mouthful of beer while looking out into the yard. The cool, alcoholic liquid was soothing for his restless senses. As he looked out onto the green lawn covered by fallen leaves, his mind wandered back to the conversation that he and Ben had shared in the car. It was the first bit of meaningful dialogue between the two of them since he had suddenly showed up on their doorstep two weeks ago, lost, broken and alone. He still couldn't explain to himself how Lisa had readily taken him in with open arms, as messed up as he had been. As he _still_ was. But she had and for that he would be forever grateful. And Ben… damn it, if he wasn't fond of that kid. He had been so from the very first moment upon meeting him a few years ago, even at the terrifying possibility of being his father. But all that affection only served to increase his doubts further. He worried about him. He didn't want the poor little guy to feel uncomfortable in his own home, didn't want him to think that Dean was intruding into his quiet life with his mom.

"Hey," Lisa's soft voice pulled him from his thoughts a short while later. He turned around to see her standing on the other side of the room, her eyes warm and welcoming. There was no point in hiding the beer. She had already seen it and even if she hadn't, she probably could have guessed. So Dean just awkwardly looked down at the bottle and then back at her, hoping that she wouldn't condemn him for it. She merely smiled, only a hint of sadness briefly shadowing her face before she crossed the room to stand beside him.

"Thanks for driving him," she said. Dean gave a quick shrug to show that it wasn't a problem and set the offending bottle down on the windowsill behind him. "How did it go?" She asked cautiously.

"Ok, I guess," he responded, recalling the conversation between himself and Ben once more. "I mean, he seemed fine."

He contemplated her patient face for a moment before deciding to share his concern. She was the kid's mother after all. "How… how do you think he's doing?" He didn't say anything to specify what he was talking about, but he knew he didn't need to. She understood him perfectly.

"He's fine," Lisa said without hesitating. "He needs some time to adjust of course, but…" Her eyes trailed slowly over his face and she couldn't help but smile upon uttering her next words. "I'm finding it hard to see a down side in this."

Dean was not exactly sure how to react to this. Already he could feel the waves of guilt washing over him from those words that had meant to cause the complete opposite of what they were actually inducing. More than anything he wished he could see it the way she did. That this was somehow a new beginning, a benefit to all of them. But of course all he could see was nothing _but_ a down side.

"What is it?" She asked softly, her smile faltering into a worried expression as she took a step closer to him, one hand reaching up to touch his face. Dean looked down, unable to meet her eyes. But the touch of her hand felt so warm, so comforting that he couldn't stop himself from leaning into it if only slightly.

"Look, I don't know if you've noticed…" He said after a while, lifting his head back up to meet her gaze. "But I'm a wreck." He couldn't help showing a hint of a humorless smile. It was all he had been for years now. "And I don't wanna put that on anyone. Especially not Ben…"

Lisa instantly took another step toward him, dropping her hand to grip his tightly, an earnest expression on her face. "You think that's what you're doing?" She responded, incredulity obvious in her voice. "Dean, you've been nothing but good to him since the moment you arrived here!"

Seeing that he was about to argue, she raised her finger to silence him. "Look… I can't pretend to know what you went through. What you're still going through… I know some bad things happened to you out there. And I know that doesn't exactly leave you in the mood for a happily ever after. But, Dean, that's ok!" She clasped his hand tightly while looking into his eyes, almost willing him to understand. "I don't expect you to just be fine. It's ok for you to grieve."

At this point Dean started turning his head to look away, refusing to think about Sam at the moment, but Lisa put her hand against his face once more to stop him. When she spoke again, her voice was barely a fleeting whisper, but for all its stillness lacked nothing in determination. "We'll get through this."

As if to undermine her declaration, she took one more step forward and put her arms around him. Dean slowly reciprocated the embrace and looked down on her head, which she was now resting against his chest. There were so many things he wanted to say to her, so much gratitude that needed to be conveyed. He wanted to tell her how much this meant to him, how undeserving and thankful he was for all her care. But he had never been good at finding the right words for stuff like this. So instead, he simply lowered his lips to her hair, pressing a tentative kiss to the top of her head before resting his cheek there. It was more than he could ever bring across with a few stupid, meaningless words.

The two of them remained like that for a few moments, Dean's eyes still trailing the fall of the leaves outside the living room window. A soothing tranquility settled within the room, disturbed by nothing but the distant chatter of a few kids playing happily outside. After a short while Lisa slowly pulled her head away from his chest to look up into his eyes.

"And Ben?" She started with a smile. "I don't think you realize what a big impression you made on him."

Dean's brow furrowed in slight confusion. "What do you mean?" After all he had only been here for two weeks, so he didn't know what type of impression he could've made on the kid.

Lisa shook her head in amusement at his ignorance. "Three years ago?" She said chuckling. "A cool guy walks into his birthday party, all leather jacket and rock-star looking, then helps him with some bullies _and_ saves his life?" Her eyes glinted, while her voice took on a slightly teasing note. "That kinda stuff makes quite a big impression on a kid."

Taking in her good-humored expression in surprise, Dean couldn't help feeling a certain amount of pride stirring deep within him, buried beneath all the self-hatred. "Really, I did?" He responded with a small grin appearing on his face.

Lisa laughed while withdrawing her arms from around him and taking his hands into hers instead. "Of course you did! He couldn't stop talking about you for weeks. He's never had a guy to look up to before, you know? He idolized you."

And with just those few words the feeling of pride had left him as quickly as it had come. _Idolized._ He was the last guy in the world Ben should be idolizing. Especially after what had happened to the last kid that had ever looked up to him.

_Nope, not going there._

He felt his smile faltering on his face, but thankfully Lisa didn't seem to notice since she was smiling down at their linked hands, squeezing his tightly. "He's gonna be ok." She reassured him confidently. "You both are."

Dean found himself extremely grateful that she had to leave a few moments later in order to make her ten o'clock. That way he could keep to his dark cloud of despair on his own for now and not pull her into it. He quickly decided that wandering aimlessly around the house just wasn't going to cut it; he needed distraction.

So he once again found himself venturing out into the garden, trying to find something to do around the house that would keep him busy. The time was not ideal for mowing the lawn, seeing how it was covered in a thick of autumn leaves, but this did leave him with another option. After finding what he needed in the small tool shed, he got to work in raking the leaves.

The rhythmic strokes worked wonders to calm down his warped mind. But after a few minutes, Dean had to realize that this would not be able to keep him from thinking. This could not distract him, nothing could. He could only _not go there_ for so long.

In the end everything he was doing here was lie. He could wake up next to Lisa and have her tell him that he was safe, that he was only having nightmares. He could make breakfast and drive Ben to school and try to fit into Lisa's home like some kind of a family man. But none of that meant anything, because in his mind, he could never escape from that dark precipice that was haunting him each and every night.

The dark hole that had swallowed Sammy, violently ripping him from this world forever.

Just thinking about it now, he could feel his chest being crushed again, that petrifying confining feeling steadily closing in on him. He forced himself to take deep breaths. The raking helped.

It had been nearly unbearable at first. His own nightmares of hell mixing in with all the horrible things that must be happening to Sam right now… They had been quite a common phenomenon ever since the night it happened. _Messed up_ didn't even begin to cover it. He had been frickin' _destroyed_ those first few days after. He still was. He wasn't even sure how he was breathing right now. Because saying that it had been unbearable at first… It would be a complete and utter lie to say that it had gotten any better. He was no more stable now than he had been two weeks ago. Hell, it hadn't even gotten scarcely bearable. If anything… He was just _being_. Going on. Hanging by the last possible thread still in existence that kept him from straight on going insane.

There were moments of course when he did fear that he was going crazy. They consisted usually in an episode of his desperate, manic need to try to bring Sam back, regardless of the fact that he had promised not to do so. Twice he had left the house in the middle of the night, driving to faraway places and collecting whatever books he could find on dark magic and gateways to hell. Hours he had spent researching the web, casually downing entire bottles of whiskey glass after glass during the process. Although he knew that Lisa knew perfectly well what was going on with him, he never told her about it and she never asked. They were short-lived episodes after all, mostly passing within a few hours and always ending with the grim and hopeless realization that he neither should nor would ever succeed. And then he would plunge into the depths of grief once more.

The only thing that kept bringing him back again, was that last possible thread existing solely in the promise that had been his brother's dying wish. It was the only reason he was still breathing. Knowing that Sammy had wanted him to go on, to try to live some kind of apple-pie life. And he would try. God help him, but he would try.

Even though he was only barely scraping by, he couldn't deny that he would probably be in a lot worse condition if it weren't for Lisa. He cared for her and Ben the way he hardly had for anybody else in his life besides Sammy. As messed up and loaded with crap as he was, the two of them almost seemed like the only light in his entire world of crushing, black darkness. Perhaps even something slightly representing… Hope.

He knew that he was not gonna be all right. He was never gonna be _all right._ But as long as the two of them existed… he knew he could at least keep going on. That had to count for something.

Time passed swiftly while he was raking, lost in thought, working his way through the yard, bundling up piles of the leaves as he went. A soft breeze danced around him, blowing at some of the leaves still waiting for him. The sound of the wind around him blended well with the quiet nature of the place, normally presenting a perfect disguise to the faint fluttering behind him.

But not to him. Not to him.

Perhaps it was more instinct than his hearing sense, but there was nothing in the world that could keep that flutter from him. Dean froze in the middle of his raking motions, his heart pounding fiercely in his chest. He'd recognize that sound anywhere. The soft, almost peaceful breath of air that could be called forth by only one being in existence.

The flutter of wings.

Dean slowly turned around, his eyes growing wide in surprise and utter speechlessness at the sight before him. His gaze swiftly wandered over the traits so familiar to him; the beige trench coat, the friggin' messed up tie that he managed to always wear backwards. The dark, mussed up hair standing in such sharp contrast to the brilliant blue eyes that quietly rested on him.

A feeling of great unease started spreading within the hunter as he looked into the angel's face. Anyone else would have been blind to any form of emotion on the stoic being's face, but knowing him as well as Dean did, he instantly noticed the almost barely visible shadow of sadness in his expression, followed by the unusually grave sentiment, which lay within his blue eyes.

His deep and gravelly voice aggrieved with the weight of the world, Castiel finally opened his mouth to speak.

"Hello, Dean."


	3. Chapter 2

**Thanks to my lovely Ninjakittee for her Beta work... You were really patient with me this chapter hun, my punctuation will improve, I solemnly promise! *serious face* And now enjoy haha ;)**

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For the life of him Dean could not stop staring.

He felt weird doing it, cause usually it was Cas' thing to stare; keeping his unblinking eyes glued to him sometimes for hours. He couldn't remember how many times in total he had snapped at the confused angel, informing him of the inevitable creepiness of having someone watch your every move. Castiel never really had grasped the concept of personal space.

But now Castiel himself was subject to an eternal stare, Dean's eyes glazed and unblinking. The hunter couldn't stop himself from taking in every detail of his friend's posture, every change however slight that took place on his face. He clung to Cas' every word as they sat across from each other in the little tool shed in Lisa's back yard, discussing the nature of his sudden appearance.

Dean couldn't help but notice Castiel's undignified position as he sat on the pile of boxes, shoulders slumped and elbows placed on his knees, making his hands fall loosely before his body. It was as far from the powerful being he had first met in the broken down barn years ago, displaying its gigantic and otherworldly wings in a highly fearsome way, as anything ever could be. Almost nothing about the angel's defeated position indicated that he had ever even possessed such power. It was yet another reminder of how far Cas had truly fallen, even with his restored angelic mojo. And Dean couldn't stop himself from wondering… _why._

Maybe that was where the staring came from. The shock of suddenly seeing him again, a friend who had spoken his final goodbyes in the aftermath of their all-consuming battle. Seeing as his mind had been mostly tied up with grieving for his brother and honoring his promise, he hadn't really given it much thought, but it became clear to him now that he hadn't expected to ever see the angel again. Castiel had seemed so powerful at the time, so full of resolve and purpose… Put back into all his angelic glory, his once shattered faith now wonderfully renewed. And through it all, he had finally been able to return to heaven. _Home._

Their paths weren't supposed to cross anymore. So how in the fucking world was it possible that he was suddenly so lost?

Of course the _how_ became more and more obvious the longer Dean listened to his friend speak. It pained him to hear the sorrow in the angel's every word as he told him about his return to heaven and the events that had followed. It had started out alright apparently. A faint, nostalgic smile lay upon Cas' lips as he recounted his reunion with his former garrison. He seemed fondly amused at the fact that none of his brothers and sisters had been able to grasp the concept of freedom, as opposed to Dean who did not find it surprising at all that all those feathered dicks were good for was standing in line. He almost felt the urge to grin at the image of the excited and triumphant angel trying to bring the idea of free will into that soldier factory that was heaven. Now that was something that he'd _die _to see. Pun fully intended.

But within a few weeks of having returned home, Castiel had come to discover that heaven was by no means to be the leaderless chaos that he had suspected it to be. Cause in all their equations considering the apocalypse, there was still one archangel left that none of them had even bothered to think about. Raphael.

And that wasn't everything.

As Dean listened to Castiel's deep, gloomy voice cautiously utter the path that Raphael was set on following in his new position as leader of heaven, he finally put his finger on where the staring came from. It was the shock. The horror. The deep-seeded dread that was slowly working its way through every fiber of his body, rendering him incapable of any other activity than staying frozen on the spot. The hunter's eyes grew ever wider in terror as Castiel finally finished his grave tale; now raising his gaze up from the ground to meet Dean's with a remorseful and terrifyingly hopeless expression.

Silence hovered over them for several minutes while Dean slowly tried to process everything that he had learned in the past half and hour. When he finally spoke, it was with a hoarse and cracked voice.

"No," he choked out, the words barely louder than a breath of air as they escaped his quivering lips. "They can't… C-can they do that?"

Castiel's sad eyes briefly pondered over the hunter's agitated behavior, carefully calculating his answer.

"I don't know," he then said quietly.

For all the sincerity his voice was trying to convey, Dean was not fooled by the response. The carefully chosen and frankly meaningless words were nothing more than a veil designed to cover up the angel's true opinion. It was obvious that even though he probably wasn't sure, Cas did think that it was very possible. Possible that the forces of heaven could reopen the cage, release Michael and Lucifer and go through with the apocalypse. Possible that everything they had suffered and sacrificed, everything that _Sammy_ had sacrificed… would be completely in vain.

Within a matter of seconds the cage around his chest was back. The terrifying crushing sensation, threatening to cut him off from all possibility of breathing. This couldn't be happening, it just couldn't. Forcing his lungs to perform the necessary movements, Dean straightened himself up, finally snapping out of the frozen state he had spent the last twenty minutes in.

"Great!" he vented, feeling a weird satisfaction at the fact that his voice was back to its usual strength. "That's… That's friggin' great!"

He got up from where he was sitting to pace through the small shed with a large sigh, rubbing his hand slowly over his mouth and jaw in frustration. He couldn't even catch a break after he had stopped the fucking apocalypse!

"I'm sorry, Dean," came the honest and sad response from the angel still sitting on the boxes, his eyes fixed ruefully on his hands once more. Cas knew that Dean had seen right through him. Of course he knew. But what else could he say, really?

Dean shook his head slightly while facing the wall, indicating that he did not blame his friend for any of this. It wasn't his fault; it was nobody's fault. Both he and Sam had been so keen on jumping on the only possible solution that Gabriel had offered them in the face of imminent doom, that none of them had taken the time to consider what any of the other parties thought about it. Why would they even? The whole plan had been completely reckless if not suicidal to begin with. It had been the desperate last act of a group of stubborn men that knew no other way out. So naturally none of them had even bothered to contemplate what could go wrong _after_ the plan had succeeded.

But it was obvious, now that Dean thought about it. Had they really thought that it would be that easy? That heaven was just gonna stand by and let their _Oh-so-destined_-prizefighters be locked away in the cage? As Castiel had once tried to explain, it had all been long foretold. And the feathered sons of bitches were planning on going through with it, no matter what.

"All right," Dean spoke up, turning around again to face the seated angel. "So how do we stop it?"

Castiel looked up at him, his big blue eyes mirroring the gloom that was lingering in the depths beyond them. "I'm not sure that we can," he admitted reluctantly, knowing full well that it was not what Dean wanted to hear.

"Are you kidding me?" The hunter instantly responded with all the disbelief he could muster up.

Cas dropped his gaze back to the ground again, hesitating to speak at the prospect of Dean's simmering anger. "Dean…" He tried to explain slowly. "Raphael is extremely powerful…"

"I don't care, Cas!" Dean instantly shot back. He was starting to get seriously pissed off at the angel's defeated attitude. "We can't just sit around and do nothing!"

He took a step closer to him, throwing his hands up in anger as he spoke. "Sam died for this," he started with a tone that was both menacing and full of pain. "He jumped in that friggin' hole so this would all be over! And now your telling me those dicks can just go through with it anyway?"

Dean stared at the silent angel in agitation, wanting nothing more than to snap him out of his crestfallen state. "There's gotta be a way to stop it! I mean, we found one before, didn't we?" he demanded, his face now shifting to grim determination. "We can do it again! We'll figure something out, we've still got time"-

"I don't, Dean!"

When Castiel's voice finally interrupted him, it carried with it all the power and abundance that belonged to the true nature of his being. Along with these distinct words the angel lifted his head, his brilliant blue eyes piercing the hunter with an intense stare. There was a sense of absolute finality within his gaze; something that could not be questioned, whether for truth or severity.

Dean blinked several times in surprise before answering. "What?"

Cas sighed gravely, lowering his voice back down to normal talking volume. "I don't have time." He stated it factually, eying the back of his folded hands while he explained. "Raphael has made it very clear that… Freedom ends tomorrow. Tomorrow I either pledge allegiance to his flag or…" His voice trailed off quietly as he stared gloomily into the distance.

"Or they kill you." Dean completed the sentence for him. In response Castiel turned his head to meet the hunter's gaze with sad blue eyes, once more leaving no room for doubt.

The silence in the room seemed almost tangible through the weight of its sorrow. Green eyes stared into blue as Dean gave a barely noticeable shake of his head, his face speaking volumes of the fear and pain he felt at the prospect of losing yet another of the few people that meant anything at all to him in this world. One single break, just once in a while, was that too much to ask? It seemed that there was hardly anything left that had not been taken from him. He had lost allies, friends, his mother, his father, his brother… And now he was about to lose his best friend as well.

Dean slowly lowered himself back onto the bench opposite Cas and sighed. "I'm sorry, man." The words seemed so meaningless, so little, but he couldn't think of anything else to say.

Castiel gave a slight shrug, having assumed his activity of staring at his vessel's hands once again. "It was to be expected," he said indifferently, his deep voice taking on the tone of casual bitterness. "I'm surprised they've even given me a choice. Heaven is not very forgiving."

Dean snorted. "No kidding," he responded sardonically. "You'd think with all that preaching-bible-crap they'd be more into the business…"

The angel naturally ignored the blasphemous quip, his eyes unfocused from deep thought. Biting back another provocative comment, Dean decided to remain silent and give his friend time to further address the dire situation. He was the one with his head on the chopping block after all.

After several moments of hesitation Castiel slowly started speaking again, the sound of his voice now turned from bitter to utterly lost. "I don't know what to do, Dean," he admitted painfully. "I'm not sure there's anything I can do. I…" He turned remorseful eyes toward his friend, making it seem as though he was asking for forgiveness. "I should not be putting this on your shoulders. I'm sorry, Dean."

Dean vigorously shook his head and answered roughly. "Don't you dare, Cas. I'm your friend! I'd be kicking your ass if you hadn't come to me!"

"Well, technically in that case you wouldn't know, Dean, so you could hardly"-

"Shut up!" Dean complained in annoyance, feeling rather pleased with himself as the corner of Castiel's mouth twitched up into a feeble smile. Faint, yes, but still it was there. He shook his head with a slight chuckle, still amused at the angel's confused comment. It was just so _Cas_.

However the welcome refuge of amicable banter did not last very long, for within a moment's notice Castiel's face was back to its initial gloomy expression. "You have sacrificed so much already…" he continued guiltily. "I should not be asking for more. If I could handle it myself I would."

Dean felt the urge to argue with his friend once again, to tell him that he didn't have to apologize, but something about the angel's tone told him to hold back. It was the same air of finality, which had shone through so clearly before.

"But I can't," he concluded with grim certainty. "I'm not ashamed to say that my big brother knocked me into next week. I can't fight him. So it seems I have only two options… Bow down… or die."

For a brief moment Dean observed his friend with a frown, contemplating his response to the utterly crushing words that he had uttered. But there wasn't much to think about really. Because despite all the subtler and understanding approaches that might have been more fitting, Dean Winchester knew from the core of his being that there was only one thing he wanted to say.

"That's a load of crap!" the hunter stated gruffly, anger slowly working its way into his voice again as Cas' eyes met his in confusion.

"What?" The angel blinked, seeming slightly taken aback from the harsh response.

"All this _only-two-options_-shit you're yapping about – crap!" Dean went on mercilessly, staring his friend down with a pissed off stare. "It sounds like you're giving up and I don't like it!"

"Dean, I said I need your help"-

"Well, I can't help you if you come here with your tail stuck between your legs from the get-go!" Dean interrupted him angrily, finally letting out his frustration over the angel's defeated attitude, which had been bugging him ever since he arrived. He got up from his seat to pace the shed once more, feeling far too agitated to sit still at the moment. "Cas, the choice isn't bow down or roll over, you've got a third option here! You can fight!"

Castiel's eyes narrowed as they followed the hunter's jerky movements. "Haven't you been listening, Dean? I can't!"

"The hell you can't!" Dean vented, throwing out his arms in anger. "You're a frickin' soldier, Cas! You can always keep fighting!"

"Dean…" At this point Cas was obviously struggling to keep his voice calm, for he too was starting to get rather angry at Dean's lack of understanding. "Raphael 'kicked my ass'!" he pressed out, raising his hands to make unfitting air quotes with his fingers while he spoke.

Dean found himself temporarily distracted from their argument, his eyes fixed on Castiel's raised fingers. He almost felt the urge to grin at the awkward, completely out of place gesture, which was once again so typical of the socially inept angel. He might've done so if the situation hadn't been so dire. But in light of the more pressing issues at hand, he simply let it pass, feeling only a slight sting at the thought of much Sammy would've enjoyed this as well.

Cas didn't seem to notice the hunter's brief absence of mind and therefore kept pressing his point. "I don't stand a chance against him, Dean! Even if I did chose to fight… the third option would also result in my being killed."

"So?" Dean asked with a shrug. "We'll find another option, then! There are different ways to fight, Cas. I don't think I need to tell you about all the steep odds Sammy and me faced over the years. Damn it, the three of us stopped the friggin' apocalypse! He gave his life for it, so that our sorry asses could go on doing… Whatever it is we're doing!" His ribs howled silently in protest to the pressing sensation threatening to snap them. "And now he's down there going through God knows what"- When had his voice decided to sound so desperate? –"and we are not gonna let it be for nothing, you hear me? There's always a way!"

Castiel remained silent for a moment, his blue eyes full of guilt at the pain he was causing the hunter. It was clear that he wanted to do something to help, to find the words to somehow make it all better, but in addition to his social ineptness couldn't think of anything useful.

"So what do you propose?" he then wanted to know, not sounding very hopeful despite Dean's effort to cause the opposite, but at least trying to pull himself together all the same.

"I don't know, do what you do best," Dean responded, feeling slightly exasperated at the fact that he was the one that had to explain the best course of action to a fucking angel of the Lord.

"Disobey?" Cas huffed with a slightly petulant edge to his voice.

"Rebel!" Dean almost yelled in response, frustration and annoyance mixing on his face as he took a threatening step closer to the angel. "Fight! Show them you're not their bitch!"

"They already know that, Dean, otherwise they wouldn't resort to killing me." Castiel quietly remarked, highly aware of how the nitpicky words were raising Dean's already boiling rage to a level dangerously close to explosion. The hunter appeared like he had a nasty insult on the tip of his tongue, but managed to hold it back through taking a deep breath. "I told you," Cas went on. "I can't survive a straight fight."

"Ok, maybe not a straight fight" Dean immediately jumped at the next possibility. "So don't face him! Don't give him the chance to gank you."

This earned him an incredulous stare from Cas, indicating that Dean was the last person in the world that he had expected to hear this from. "You're telling me to run away?" he asked in a highly skeptical voice, as if he was wondering if Dean was perhaps not well.

"No, just… Live to fight another frickin' day!" Dean insisted, frowning to himself over his half-dramatic statement. Maybe he was developing a poetic streak. "You know, play it safe for now and… Buy us some time to come up with a plan B."

The angel seemed to contemplate this for a moment, letting the idea slowly fester inside a mind full of hopelessness. "And what would you suggest as a plan B?" he asked softly, consequently pointing out the weak point in Dean's plan.

Dean opened and closed his mouth again before showing a humorless smirk with a slight shake of his head. "I'm working on it," he grumbled, as always not wanting to admit that he had no idea what to do.

The two of them lingered in depressing silence for a while, not really sure what further words to say to each other. Dean felt that there was so much he still wanted to tell his friend, so many things he wanted to get off his chest. His insides were practically screaming for him to have Castiel help him where he couldn't ask Lisa because he didn't want to be more of a burden to her than he already was. Cas had seen him at his darkest and most horrible moments and somehow still managed not to judge him for it. There was probably no one else in the world besides Sam and Bobby who knew him as well as the angel did. And with Sammy gone… He wasn't sure he could take it much longer. He hated to admit it to himself, but he knew that he needed help.

Dean was ripped from his train of thought by the sound of Castiel's voice cautiously speaking again. "How… How are you, Dean?" He asked softly, genuine affection and concern shining from the brilliant blue eyes on his otherwise stoic face.

This was his chance. Cas was even offering it, he could tell him everything if he only wanted to. And still the hunter hesitated. Once again he failed to put into words that which was bothering him most. So instead he simply shrugged with a nonchalant expression. "All right," he said.

He felt the angel's worried eyes still resting on him, but before either of them had a chance to say another word, they were both distracted by the sound of a car pulling into the driveway on the front side of the house. Dean found himself extremely surprised that Lisa was already back from her errands, because only now did he realize how much time had passed since Cas had first appeared in the yard behind him.

Castiel got to his feet and watched as Dean paced over to the little window of the shed, looking out across the lawn and over to the car where he saw the slender brunette in the process of slamming the door shut. She would probably need some help carrying in her grocery bags.

His eyes still watching Lisa out the window, Dean addressed the angel again. "All right, Cas, listen, whatever you do, don't do anything…" He turned around to face his friend only to be met by a completely empty space in front of him. "…Stupid."

Dean looked back and forth in the small tool shed, in which he was now entirely on his own and shook his head in exasperation.

"Frickin' angels."

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**__****_Author'_**___s____ Note:____ Just wanted to give a quick thanks to all you awesome people who already favorited and followed my story :) Thank you so much for reading and I hope you will like where I'm going with this haha!_

___Thanks also to Abby-Jade-Love and roy23 for giving me my first reviews *virtual hug* ^.^ I cannot tell you how much I appreciate the support! I know the plot is still moving a bit slowly right now, but I do have one worked out in my head and will try to update as often as possible!_

___Oh and thanks of course to Ninjakittee for all her amazing Beta work and support haha! You rock, hun :D_

___Alrighty, hope you guys will keep on liking it, please review and tell me what you think! :)_


	4. Chapter 3

**This chapter is dedicated to Ninjakittee... Betaing fics like a boss!  
**

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The decision to not tell Lisa anything about his celestial friend's visit was made fairly quickly.

First of all he had never even told her about Cas to begin with. She had no idea of any of the people that he had been acquainted with in his life as a hunter, other than his deceased brother. So what would he even say to her? _My angel-buddy who rebelled against heaven to help me stop the apocalypse is about to be butchered by his own brothers. And yes, angels exist._ He had a feeling that that wasn't going to cut it.

The problem was that he hadn't really spoken about any of it to her, at all. Of course he had been forced to give her some sketchy description of why the hell he had showed up on her doorstep twice, once to say goodbye and the second time to move in with her. She knew what had happened to Sam, well the rough outline anyway. And she knew that a lot of crap had happened to him; that something very big had gone down. But that was pretty much it.

It wasn't so much that he didn't want to talk about it, although that was also a huge factor, but more that he didn't want to put any unnecessary burdens on her. Having a surly, messed up alcoholic as a houseguest was bad enough. He didn't want to disturb her with all of his terrifying stories or make her worry that something like that could happen again.

Because it couldn't happen again. It _wouldn't_, not while he was still breathing. That was the only thing he was completely sure of.

On top of all that Dean couldn't deny there was also a small part of him that didn't really want to tell Lisa about Cas. The angel was an important part of his old life that he had not yet lost like everything else, even if that might soon be over. And even if their encounter had been darkened by the pain and sorrow that seemed to follow their lives wherever they went, there was still a remarkable sense of joy that he had felt upon seeing his friend again.

He couldn't really explain it, but somehow he was unable to shake the need to keep this entirely as his own for as long as he could. For as long as there was still something to keep.

So instead he slipped back into his casual mask of adopted cheerfulness and pretended to have been working in the garden the entire time, before helping her carry the grocery bags inside. They then spent their time with unpacking and putting away the various contents of the bags, while talking about how her morning had been until it was time to pick Ben up from school.

Not wanting to force himself onto the kid again so soon, Dean generously volunteered to stay at the house and take care of the rest while she drove out to get him. After having finished his self appointed task of setting the kitchen nicely in order, he violently squashed his need to get another beer from the fridge, telling himself that even though his life had just turned a hell of a lot more complicated again, this wouldn't make things better in the slightest. He managed to successfully leave the kitchen with empty hands a moment later, though loudly swearing all the way to the living room. Without a drink in his hands it seemed even more apparent that the hunter had no idea what to do with himself in this quiet house. He frickin' wasn't cut out for this! He couldn't peacefully sit at home and do nothing. Because the more intense the silence around him got, the more he was left alone with his thoughts… the more he really did feel like he was going crazy. There was no one here that could tell him it would all be ok. Nothing to distract him from the terrifying possibility that the fucking apocalypse might be set back in motion. Nothing to stop the burning pain in his chest from making him feel completely helpless.

That was only one of the many reasons why Dean was extremely relieved when he heard Lisa's car pull up again outside and he knew that his life would once more be brightened by the two radiant beings that managed to still keep him topside. He was greeted by a very cheerful, if still slightly guarded Ben and the warmth of a mother contended by her child's happiness. The afternoon then passed relatively uneventful with Lisa and Dean taking turns in helping Ben with his homework and Dean talking him into trying a video game together.

By the time they all sat down to have dinner, the hunter was surprised to find himself not exactly happy but oddly warm and comfortable inside, safe in the presence of his two luminous anchors. Lisa seemed to be quite satisfied at the fact that the two boys had found something to do together while she cooked dinner and Ben was the most talkative that he had ever been since Dean moved into their house.

"Ok, so we're going down the main street…" Ben enthusiastically told his mother after swallowing another bite of his meatloaf. "And Dean's telling me he can totally handle it"-

"Which I could!" Dean interrupted, playfully pointing his fork at the boy, making him roll his eyes in response.

"Yeah, right!" Ben responded in annoyance before going back to telling Lisa about a particularly fun moment in the game they had just been playing. "Ok, but I keep seeing him getting his ass whooped and then suddenly four more critters show up and we're surrounded!" Lisa raised her brows in amusement at her son's enthusiasm.

"So then I jump off the ledge and whoosh,"- his joined hands went through the air, mimicking a cutting movement –"I fly over this one dude and cut his head off!"

"That would never happen in real life, by the way," Dean murmured under his breath while taking a sip of water.

"Dean," Lisa told him off with a light-hearted smile. Thankfully Ben was so busy with telling his story that he hadn't listened to either of them, so he carried on as if uninterrupted.

"And while I'm still fighting, Dean shoots at the tank and BOOM!" He threw out his hands to mimic an explosion. "Blows 'em all up! That was sweet!"

"Pretty good team work!" Dean smirked at the beaming kid.

"All right, all right, finish your salad, Indiana Jones," Lisa chuckled, pointing at the green pile that was still lying untouched on the boy's plate. Ben sighed dramatically at his mother's indifference over the video game adventure and picked up his fork to continue eating.

"Did you guys do equally good team work on that math problem you were trying to solve earlier?" she then wanted to know.

Ben rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Mom!" he complained, mouth still full of salad.

"Sorry," she said, shooting him a stern look. "I'm not the one who got a hard time today in class. Isn't that what you told me?"

"Yeah, but that's not my fault!" Ben protested defensively. "It's Cadwallader! The bitch's got it in for me!"

"Ben, language!" Lisa immediately scolded him, her brow furrowing in discontent. Meanwhile Dean pretended to be very focused on his glass of water, subconsciously counting how many times he had possibly uttered the word or equally bad ones during the video game. He had always known he had a bad influence on kids. "And didn't you say the same thing about your chemistry teacher just last week?" she went on.

Ben didn't answer, but shoved his last few bites of salad into his mouth, sulking. "Well, like I told you with her, sweetie, it's not always the teacher's fault." Lisa shrugged. "Sometimes it's up to you."

"Actually…" Ben said, shoving his empty plate away. "Chemistry wasn't that bad today."

"Really?" This spiked both Lisa's and Dean's interest, leaving her looking highly skeptical while the latter tried to stifle a grin.

"Yeah," Ben shrugged. "Experiments were kinda interesting."

His mother chuckled in slight confusion. "Ok, well, that's good," she got up to gather the empty plates and carry them to the kitchen, not without lovingly running a hand through her son's hair. "You're already making progress!"

Taking advantage of Lisa's temporary absence, Dean leaned slightly toward Ben and smirked at him. "All right, who was it?"

Ben looked slightly taken aback at the older man's bold question. "Chem class," Dean specified, quirking his eyebrow at him. "Your interesting experiments, huh?"

He caught the corner of the boy's mouth twitch in amusement and after a few moments of indecision, he finally responded. "Sophie," he said with a slight smirk. "Blonde chick. We had to mix substances together."

A slight chuckle escaped Dean's throat at the boy's pleased expression. "That's my boy!"

Before either of them could say anything further, Lisa was back in earshot as she started placing small plates and dessert forks on the table. "What are you boys talking about?" She wanted to know.

"Baseball," both of them said at the same time. Ben shot Dean a look of surprise at their seemingly synchronized answers. Dean winked at him.

All other thoughts were forgotten for the time being as Dean's gaze fell upon their dessert, which Lisa set down in the middle of the table. "Remember this, Ben," he said, as he stared down at the beautifully baked cherry pie. "Your mom is awesome!"

. . .

Later that night, after Lisa had already put Ben to bed and decided to turn in herself, Dean found himself venturing down the stairs onto the first floor of the house once more. At first he didn't even know where he was going, it was like his feet had decided to move without his brain giving the command. But when he had finally reached his destination, it became obvious that it was what he had been longing for all evening.

He stared at the liquor cabinet in front of him, feeling an increasing amount of frustration with himself that he had not been able to quench his unhealthy craving. But what was he supposed to do? He was actually quite proud of himself that he had made it this long without a drink, especially after the utterly unusual morning he had had. With a bitter sigh he poured himself a glass of hunter's helper and immediately took a big gulp, feeling it soothe his jumbled mind.

Glass in hand he paced through the living room for a few moments until finally coming to a halt in front of the same window that he had this very morning. His eyes almost instantly fixed on a specific spot in the now leafless yard, the spot where the angel had appeared behind him hours earlier.

It seemed almost surreal to him now, like it had all been some weird dream or something. Perhaps a different kind of nightmare that was supposed to drive him insane. He was surprised at how strangely inviting that thought seemed to him. However, he naturally knew that it had not been a dream, because at the core it all made sense. He should've figured the feathery sons of bitches were not gonna leave it at this and it pained him that he had not seen it coming early enough to avoid all the panic that he was suppressing now. But what was worse… he would never have seen this coming for Cas. Not after he had so wonderfully been brought back by the big man himself.

Before even consciously realizing what he was about to do, Dean opened his voice to speak softly. "Cas," The words escaped his mouth without him even noticing. "You listening up there?"

He fidgeted with his glass while trying to find the right words. "I know I kinda gave you a hard time today… Sorry bout that." The guy had come down here to ask him for help after he found out that he was most likely to be ganked by his own brothers the next day and all the hunter had been able to do for him was yell. _Real smooth, Dean._

"Listen…" Dean murmured, looking out at the night sky since he had little other indicators of where Cas might be at the moment. "You know I'm not good at saying these sort of things. Sammy always wanted me to man up… Get it off my chest. But that was more his thing, you know?"

The hunter chuckled sadly at the mention of his little brother. It would be a brutal understatement to say that Dean missed him. He could barely _live_ without him. His constricted chest winced in agreement. But that was for another time. This was not about Sammy, it was about Cas. Cas and his stupid habit of throwing himself in front of a train for those he cared about, a habit he had very displeasingly decided to adopt from Dean.

"I know I said that I'm all right," he went on struggling with his own voice. "It's… it's what I always say. The truth is I'm not." He was pissed off at himself for how hoarse his voice suddenly sounded. He was sure as hell _not _gonna be one of those pansy-ass douchebags who broke out in tears while praying. "I'm not holding up very well here, Cas. Every day without Sam, it… Just reminds me a little more of what's happening to him down there, you know?"

He lowered his eyes back down to the glass he was still clutching and watched the remaining liquid slosh back and forth. "And there's nothing I can do to help him. I don't know, sometimes…" He chuckled once again, trying to bury the gut-wrenching agony that was slowly gnawing its way through his insides. "Sometimes I think I'm going crazy."

Dean ground his teeth together, refusing to let his confessions make him even more emotional than he already was. "And I can't take anymore of that, Cas, I just…" He blinked several times, willing the moisture in his eyes to disappear as he raised his gaze to look out the window again. Only when he was completely sure that he was safe from any kind of embarrassing moment, did he speak again.

"Look, I know you well enough to know you won't stand down. You're a fucking stubborn son of a bitch when you've set your head on something." This almost made him smile for a moment as he imagined the angel's stern and determined gaze. "But just so you know… Rolling over and dying is no better."

The hunter hesitated for a moment, giving himself some time to find the words that would make his friend understand. "'Cause if you do that… You let them win," He finally said. "You let them think that none of it really meant anything."

The scenery outside the window was so utterly unchanged, so unaffected by everything that had just happened inside of him that it made Dean wonder if Cas was even out there hearing any of this. But he needed to keep going nonetheless. While he was at it, he needed to get _everything_ off his chest.

"I don't really have a smooth way to say this…" he started again. "But I'm a frickin' mess, man! And… and I don't think I can do this alone. I don't think I can take anyone else dying, you hear me? If that means anything to you… please."

Begging. He had reduced himself to begging now. But somehow he couldn't really care less about that at the moment, because he needed to get everything out. He needed Cas to _understand_. "I've lost my mom…" he murmured, more to himself as he looked out the window in despair. "I lost my dad… And now I lost Sam."

His eyes somehow found their way back to the spot they had initially been staring at, the spot where he could still remember seeing the well-known blue eyes and familiar trench coat.

"Don't make me lose you too."

In the heavy stillness that settled over the house Dean eventually finished his glass of liquor, waiting vainly for an answer that he knew would not come.

. . .

Silence greeted him, wherever he went. The soft grass beneath his feet made no sound to his steps, as if it had not even noticed his presence. The leaves of the green trees swayed lazily in their nearly windless surroundings. There was nothing he could listen to besides the chaos of his own thoughts.

After all the millennia of his existence during which he had never once doubted heaven to be his true home, Castiel found that this was exactly what he had come to love most. The tranquility. The peace. The blissful stillness. For as corrupt and oppressive a place he had come to see it as after Dean had opened his eyes… that was still a quality heaven had never lacked. No matter how strict or merciless the regime had always been, it was an order of such perfect stability that it could produce nothing _but_ peace.

The angel knew in his heart how wrong this really was, but that knowledge could not extinguish his irrational longing to keep it that way. This was his home, the way he had always known it. Beautiful, peaceful. Eternal. Part of him wanted that dominance and perpetuity that only the old order could offer, for it was the only perspective that offered a familiar outcome.

Alas, his life had ceased to be accessible for all such simplicity from the day on which he had first laid eyes on the righteous man. With what Dean had taught him, it would never matter again how much Castiel desired the comfort of a home he had known and loved for thousands of years… because he would never again be able to turn the other way and be blind to all the wrong that was taking place inside it.

It was almost painful for him to remember that a few weeks ago he had been exhilarated at exactly that fact, the possibility to chose things for himself, the freedom to finally see everything the way _he_ wanted to. But now he found it was mostly just terrifying. For what use was freedom when there was no one to share it with? What use was finding the grand plan when no one wanted to be a part of it?

He was as free and independent as he had never been in all his years of existence… And at the same time he had never felt more alone in his life.

Maybe that was what freedom was. To be alone. Away from home. Away from everything that had ever been familiar to him.

All these thoughts went through Castiel's head as he nostalgically gazed around at the green and tranquil environment of his favorite heaven. He had spent so much time here in all of his long years that it felt like there were memories everywhere he looked. And that filled him with more remorse than little else ever had.

The last time he had decided to turn against his home… it had been a very fast decision. There had been little to no time at all to fully contemplate his decision, he had acted primarily on the instinct that Dean had called forth in him, realizing in that one moment that he was able to tell right from wrong in that situation. But now he still had hours left until he would have to meet his fate. And the worst part was that this time he knew what he was in for. He knew how much he would miss his home, how lonely he would feel, cut off from all his brothers, because he had already gone through that experience once.

It was cruel really. Missing heaven so much and then almost the moment it was returned to him being violently torn away from it once more. He did his best to memorize every blade of grass, every leaf on the trees even though the scenery was already so well known to him that he could never forget it. Because after tomorrow he was sure he was not going to come back to it anytime soon. One way or another.

"Castiel," he suddenly heard a soft call from behind him. The voice came from a woman's vessel and he didn't need to turn around to find out which of his sisters it was; he felt her presence from her grace.

Rachel came to a stop beside him, her grey eyes warm and questioning. "I was hoping I would find you here." She waited for him to respond, but Castiel simply gazed at her in remorse, showing her the soft hint of a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. She only represented one further thing that he would be sorry to leave behind.

"Raphael has called for a full assembly of the Holy Host," Rachel spoke again when she realized that her brother was not about to start the conversation. There was a somewhat confused and uneasy edge to the sound of her voice as she watched Castiel carefully, hoping that he could explain something she had missed.

"That is correct," Castiel responded sadly, feeling a light sting inside him as he was reminded of how little time he had left.

"Castiel," Rachel repeated and it sounded almost like a plea, a helpless question as to why everything was so different than what he had promised upon first returning to heaven. "What is happening? Why is Raphael ignoring you?"

Castiel huffed inwardly at her naïve question. If only it were so; he might have a few more options left. "He is the last archangel left in heaven," he said as if that were all the explanation that were needed.

"But he must know that God brought you back," Rachel continued with nothing but fierce belief within her voice. "He must know that this is what God wants."

Muffling a humorless chuckle, Castiel turned his sad eyes toward her. "I'm not so sure he cares what God wants." He contemplated this for a moment, thinking of what Raphael had said to him that morning.

_It's God's will. Because it's what I want._

"I'm not sure it even matters," he sighed, discouraged.

Rachel gave a slight shake of her head, the expression on her face having turned utterly disbelieving. "What's happened to you, Castiel?" she asked sadly. "When you came back you were so… confident. What changed?" It pained him to see how disappointed she looked. The enormous amount of faith she must have had in him… and he had let her down.

"I stuck my tail between my legs," he murmured, dropping his gaze to the ground as he remembered a different set of words that had been thrown at him that day.

"What?" Rachel asked in confusion.

He raised his eyes back off the ground to meet hers, drawing his mind away from the one person he longed to see most at the moment. "Nothing," he said quietly, not knowing what else to say to her despite his wish to make her feel better.

Her grey eyes now seemed even more lost than upon first walking up to him, making him realize that he had just weakened the faith of an untarnished angel much like he himself had once been. Maybe he truly was a bad influence… Maybe every angel who ever believed in him would at some point fall along with him. He could only hope that some of them would eventually see reason, the same as he had. Even if that condemned them as well.

After taking one last look at his surroundings, Castiel turned back to his sister with a kind look on his face. "Come," he said. "It won't be long now."


	5. Chapter 4

**A stomach flu and a nasty writer's block... Those are my excuses for letting you guys wait so long. I hope you will forgive me after reading this bit of heavenly goodness.**

**Oh, also, there's a new Destiel vid on my Youtube channel ( watch?v=QekM7skz8nY after the usual youtube adress), check it out if you like :) Credit for betaing once again goes to my awesome Ninjakittee.**

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The gravel crunched under the pressure of the large shoes pacing back and forth. It was the only sound that could be heard for miles around them. A gathering of thousands and thousands of celestial beings, yet the only audible sound was coming from the casual movements of only one of them. The one at the center, the one with all the power. The one that was about to speak.

The vast field surrounding them held a bleak and daunting atmosphere, the grey shreds of cloud across the sky awakening a dark sense of foreboding. It was a very unusual setting for a soul to choose for its eternal rest. Set in the year 1626 during the Thirty Years' War, the image was taken from the head of a past war hero who had died in battle upon that very field. The gravel was smooth and undisturbed, the grass green without any sign of the mud that would later come to mar it. The field in its current state lay frozen in the hours before the battle, a sharp sense of excitement hanging in the air at the big deeds that were soon to come.

It was a place that was widely known amongst the angels of heaven and yet Castiel had only been to it a few times during his very long life. It was not a heaven that any angel usually favored for himself. On their own all of them took more to quiet and tranquil places, places that made them feel at home. Even Raphael possessed his own little niche amongst the infinite planes of their kingdom. But he had chosen this heaven for a very specific reason and Castiel thought he knew why.

Each and every one of them knew why this was that particular soldier's last resting place. He had been a man of strong convictions, one who believed strongly in the cause for which his country was going to war. He had not feared the prospect of battle, feeling very confident of the fact that although unpleasant it was necessary and right to achieve the goals they were fighting for.

In light of this background what better place could the archangel have chosen to sell his idea of recommencing the war of all wars? The sacrifices that needed to be made but were ultimately necessary to lead the world into paradise… Nowhere else would the words he was speaking make a more powerful impression than on this field.

Castiel could barely bring himself to listen as Raphael's deep and calm voice carried across the entirety of the Heavenly Host, speaking of the change of unforeseen events and the need to reorganize their forces and bring them back to their once unchallenged glory. There was no passion to be found in the archangel's voice, no agitation or excitement at the importance of what he was saying. He was neither cautious nor demanding; his voice remaining ever-calm – confident, but also strangely bored. It was as if he was merely stating widely acknowledged facts for the sake of completion, not even bothering to contemplate the absurd possibility that someone could have a different opinion.

It was then once again that Castiel realized how utterly hopeless his situation was. Raphael did not view him as a threat; he viewed no one as a threat. He relied on the perpetuity of the heavenly order with such utter confidence that no small rebelling angel could ever manage to shatter his beliefs.

He lowered his eyes, preferring his own bleak thoughts over Raphael's monologue. He threw a quick glance over at the members of his garrison and noticed that some of them were watching him closely. Inias politely averted his concerned eyes while Hester's more scrutinizing gaze stayed fixed on him, most likely puzzling over what he was thinking. His eyes finally met Rachel's, the two of them locking gazes over her worried expression.

She dared not speak out of fear of being punished for interrupting Raphael's speech, but she did not need words to convey the questions she was posing.

_What's wrong, Castiel?_ Her eyes seemed to be pleading the words, the anxiety radiating from her grace. _What's going to happen?_

Castiel gave her a sorrowful shake of his head and averted his gaze once again, looking through the crowd of angels toward Raphael. His companions' concern having distracted him from his decided strategy of not listening to the archangel's words, he was unable to blend out the following part of his speech.

"Our Father left us quite a while ago," Raphael stated, his deep and placid voice still awakening an air of complete recreation. "I understand that this was hard. For all of us. But that does not change the fact that we still hold true to His plan…"

Castiel was unprepared for the large amount of fury, the outrage that instantly overcame him at fully acknowledging just a few of the words that the archangel was raining down upon them.

"His will needs to be"-

_Cas, you listening up there?_

The angel blinked in utter surprise, his entire being suddenly freezing on the spot at the distant sound of the familiar voice. Raphael's voice was completely drowned out as his grace kept sending out distressed flashes within him, producing a blaring sound in his ears. After a few moments of stillness, Castiel realized that he was holding in a deep breath, making his vessel fire up in agitation.

This was nonsense! He was an angel; he didn't need to breathe. And what was more, he was in heaven, a place where air and oxygen was an illusion of a particular plane at best. The fact that his vessel had still reacted the way it had, was yet another reminder of how much time he had spent on earth, how _natural_ some human necessities now were to him. Instead of his angelic senses controlling his human vessel, his vessel had controlled _him_. And that was downright terrifying.

_I know I kinda gave you a hard time today… Sorry bout that._

There it was again. That familiar voice that made his grace flare up in excitement and sorrow at the same time. Dean's voice. It was the one voice he had most longed to hear besides any other, but now that it was here and real he somehow didn't know if he could manage it. He didn't know if he could accept his inevitable fate while being fully conscious of the most important thing he was leaving behind.

Castiel anxiously looked around at his brothers and sisters surrounding him. Had any of them noticed his flaring grace or had he managed to keep it sealed within himself despite his fretful state of mind? Nothing seemed different, even though inside him _everything_ felt different. Only a moment ago he had been succumbed to a wistful, crestfallen but remarkably peaceful mood and now that was all overturned into white hot pain, the kind of pain that made him feel like his wings were being scorched by holy fire. For even though Dean had not yet spoken any words of import, the angel knew him well enough to know what was coming.

When Dean Winchester prayed, he didn't go for the half-assed version. He went all the way.

_I know I said that I'm all right,_ Dean's clear voice rang out to him, addressing the unanswered question that they both had known still hovered between them that afternoon._ It's… it's what I always say. The truth is I'm not._ Castiel felt his grace tighten in compassion at the hunter's confession. Almost instantly he was struck by a need to lift his wings and return to Dean's side that very moment, the pain within his friend's voice making everything else suddenly seem vastly unimportant.

Raphael's voice was still ringing out across the field, speaking of the Apocalypse and God's plan. Castiel knew that the archangel was bound to soon arrive at a point that was crucial for his own future, but he somehow still couldn't bring himself to pay attention as he soaked in Dean's every word.

_I'm not holding up very well here, Cas. Every day without Sam, it… Just reminds me a little more of what's happening to him down there, you know?_

Sam. Again the angel felt the deep-seated regret at not being able to give his friend the one thing that meant everything to him. The thing that was destroying him.

It had been the younger Winchester's own choice to sacrifice himself in order to stop Armageddon. He had known full well everything that expected him if he took that final leap down into the pit, but being the remarkable man that he was, that still hadn't stopped him. Of course none of that mattered to his brother. It made no difference what had been the reason for his death, Dean would still never stop blaming himself for every speck of harm that had come upon him. Protecting Sam was the only thing he had ever lived for. And now that he had failed, Castiel knew that nothing would be able to stop the hunter from slowly destroying himself.

He didn't need monsters to break him. He did fine on his own.

_And I can't take anymore of that, Cas, I just…_

Castiel noticed that his garrison's gazes were once more fixed upon him, this time slightly more questioning than before. The same question that had shone from Rachel's eyes so clearly before now seemed to be radiating off all of them. _What's wrong?_

He wondered if they had finally sensed his distress or if they were simply still confused by Raphael's declarations when he had so clearly told them otherwise. Either way he knew that he didn't have much time left.

"We'll start by freeing Lucifer and Michael from their cage," Raphael's voice boomed back into his senses, now sounding more threatening in the face of already settled actions.

_Look, I know you well enough to know you won't stand down._

Castiel nervously looked to his right and left, not sure what to think or who to listen to. He felt extremely confused and yet Dean's voice managed to cut through the hazard fog of his thoughts with the clarity of a knife. The hunter knew exactly what he needed to hear at the moment.

"As we all know, Crowley was never in favor of our plan," Raphael kept informing his brethren. "The scum likes to keep it simple." While speaking the last words, the archangel had an almost derisive edge to his voice, the slight hint of a dismissive chuckle escaping the back of his throat. It couldn't have been clearer that he thought Crowley to be nothing even resembling a threat.

Something they had in common then, Castiel thought bitterly to himself.

_You're a fucking stubborn son of a bitch when you've set your head on something._

The angel's brow almost furrowed of its own accord at hearing the hunter's insult. Had he not known Dean better, he might have been put off at the choice of words.

"He will be bordering up hell and preparing himself for war as we speak." Despite his amusement over the demon's efforts, Raphael did not seem to underestimate his determination. "If we lay siege to him he will be ready."

_But just so you know… _Castiel felt his grace viciously pulsating inside of him, the agitation making it harder and harder to contain. He knew this feeling; he had felt it before. It was the same amount of fear and adrenalin that he had experienced when Dean had first talked him into rebellion in the face of the Apocalypse.

_Rolling over and dying is no better._

And just like then, despite all the dread inside him that was telling him otherwise, he knew exactly what he had to do.

"But not to worry…" Raphael now wore a smug expression.

_'Cause if you do that…_

The strain of concealed pain in Dean's voice was almost unbearable.

"We will get our show back on the road."

_You let them win._

And with one violent flare Castiel's grace shot out beyond the boundaries of his vessel and shone with luminous beauty, the bright and vibrant colors mirroring all the anger and heavenly wrath that had remained trapped inside him for far too long. It was such an immense relief to finally let it all out, to no longer hide what every ounce of him was screaming, regardless of what might be the consequences.

In perfect synchrony with his glowing grace, the angel opened his mouth to speak.

"No," he said. The word was neither loud nor forceful, but still spoken with an incredible prominence on the otherwise silent field. Castiel felt the shocked faces of hundreds of his brothers and sisters turn toward him, all of them heavily unsettled, but he didn't let that distract his piercing blue eyes from fixing upon the very thing that all his anger was directed at.

He wasn't even sure which of the two men he had been talking to, but it made no difference; his answer applied to both of them. And only one of them was now locking eyes with him with an equal amount of dislike.

A powerful silence hovered over the thousands of beings as each and every one of them anticipated the inevitable standoff between the two angels glaring at each other.

_You let them think that none of it really meant anything._

Castiel fretfully clung to the sound of Dean's voice, hoping and praying that it would give him the strength he needed.

"Ah, Castiel…" Raphael finally said, his voice still carrying the same deep, impassive quality to it. "How good of you to announce yourself."

The lower angel found it to be very unsettling, how indifferent his superior appeared to be by his interruption. From his casual expression one could assume that he was merely moving on to a further point he had wanted to address, as if he was almost approving of Castiel's notion to remind him of this. Just one further issue that needed to be settled before everything was set in motion… that was all he was.

"I trust you have something more to say," Raphael added lazily, stretching out his hand in an inviting gesture.

Castiel could almost feel the anxious gazes of his garrison fixed upon him, but he did not divert his eyes from Raphael's.

"Yes, actually, I do," he said sternly, slowly taking a few steps toward the archangel, the angels standing in front of him all backing off to the side to clear his path.

_I'm a frickin' mess, man!_ Dean's voice continued softly in the distance, but the angel forced himself not to react to it and merely kept it close to his grace for strength.

"The Apocalypse doesn't have to be fought," Castiel said, making sure not to break eye contact with Raphael while his clear, deep voice sounded over to him. The words he was speaking were meant for the entirety of the Host more than for the archangel himself. It was the first time he was able to utter his motives for rebelling against his superiors to all of them and he could only pray that at least some of them would understand him.

"You know I have spent time among humans. Believe me when I say that I know what their values are," he went on sincerely, his grace flashing passionate colors in synchrony to his commitment. All the while Raphael remained silent, gazing at him with an almost mocking, amused glint in his eyes. As if watching Castiel fight a losing battle was the most entertaining thing in existence.

In the back of his head he continued to make out the desperate confessions in Dean's prayer. _I don't think I can take anyone else dying, you hear me?_ The angel steeled himself, not wanting the pain and the need for his charge to flash outward when he was trying to convey complete confidence.

"They are our Father's creations, his children, just as we are," he said adamantly, feeling the attention of all his brothers and sisters fixed on him. Somehow he managed to make out the benevolent grace of his joined garrison; all of them loyal to him, despite a few doubts some were fighting with. "We can't carelessly sacrifice millions of their lives and destroy their civilization to achieve our goals."

Raphael shrugged lazily, not impressed whatsoever by his brother's speech. "I see no reason why not," he said. "Some sacrifices are necessary. When we achieve paradise… everybody wins."

_When_, Castiel noticed the archangel's choice of words bitterly. Not _if._ Pride had always been one of Heaven's greatest problems.

_Please._

The soft whisper of Dean's voice was nearly imperceptible, but it was still more powerful than anything he had said so far. Dean Winchester did not beg. Not unless he was only moments away from succumbing to despair.

Straightening himself up as much as he could, Castiel met Raphael's gaze with cold resolve. "I won't let you," he said with firm determination. "I won't let you make all their sacrifices meaningless!"

The rumbling in his voice suggested the start of a taunting chuckle from Raphael. "We all know you mean the Winchesters, Castiel." His expression seemed careless but his eyes were shooting daggers at his subordinate. "They are the only humans you care about."

Castiel glared back at him with the same amount of animosity. Every part of him wanted to argue, wanted to deny the scoffing accusation made by the archangel, but he could not bring himself to do so, because in a twisted way it was correct. As much as he was making his case for the entire human race and as much as he really did care for each and every human soul on the planet… All he could think about was Dean.

All he cared about was Dean. There was nothing that he desired more than to spare his friend from the infinite pain of knowing that his brother's sacrifice had been in vain.

As if his affectionate thoughts toward the hunter had somehow triggered the latter to speak once more, Dean's begging voice found its target with perfect accuracy.

_Don't make me lose you too._

Castiel savored the pained words almost wistfully, his resolve now strengthening to the point of sheer indestructibility.

"I will not kneel before you," he said quietly, the softness in his voice not making the words any less powerful. "There will be no Apocalypse."

The silence on the field was almost deadly now, none of the other angels even daring to move at the tense, ominous situation. From the midst of the crowd Castiel thought he could feel the slight flutter of a familiar grace; an affectionate and worried surge wanting to rise up and make contact with him. Rachel. Before she could go any further, he instantly pushed her back gently with his own grace, not wanting her to draw attention to herself. He prayed that neither Raphael nor his followers had caught the brief flicker of interaction, but his hopes were very slim. The archangel probably already had his gaze set upon Castiel's garrison, waiting for them, _daring_ them to support anything their leader had said.

_Tomorrow you kneel, Castiel... _The words he had heard only the previous day ghosted through his mind. _Or you and anyone with you dies._

He didn't want anyone to go down with him.

Suddenly he understood what Dean had been trying to say all along. About not having to face Raphael, about trying to come up with a different plan, about having to run away. Because it wasn't really _running away_. It was choosing to go on fighting this new order that he couldn't let succeed. It was going on for Dean.

Only unfortunately that wasn't what it was going to look like to his garrison.

"Pity…" Raphael said coldly, eying the angel before him in careful calculation. "You used to have so much potential."

For a brief moment the archangel turned away from him to look over at his followers. This was it. The order was soon to be issued. This was probably his last chance.

Castiel turned around quickly to cast a regretful gaze toward the members of his garrison. Their gazes all spoke of confusion and fear and he knew that there was nothing he could do to help them. He wished he had the time to make them understand, wished that they wouldn't think he was leaving them all behind. He didn't _want_ to leave any of them behind, but he didn't have a choice.

For the blink of an eye he caught Rachel's gaze. "I'm sorry," he whispered sadly.

And to the surprise of everyone surrounding him, before Raphael managed to speak again, Castiel suddenly lifted his wings and ran.


	6. Chapter 5

**Thanks again for all the reviews, favs and follows guys! I really appreciate the support :)**

**Now to go with the heavy Cas angst that we all got last episode, I give you... even MORE Cas angst lol enjoy! Betad by my wonderful Ninjakittee.**

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_"Cas!"_

_The angel's agony was visible on his face as yet another violent blow from behind knocked him down on his knees. A gurgling cough escaped his throat, followed by a slight spatter of blood that colored the dark floor, a dangerous glow against the grim stone._

_Dean watched helplessly as the dark figure behind him struck again and again until he sank forward onto the floor, his body convulsing continuously from the pain he was in. The hunter wanted nothing more than to help him, to hurry forward and do away with the son of a bitch who was doing this to his friend, but he couldn't move. He was bound on the spot, his feet firmly rooted to the ground beneath him, the only remaining possibility of interference now being his voice._

_"Cas!" Dean screamed again, desperation penetrating the name as the angel continued to writhe on the ground._

_He recognized the dark figure beating on Cas to be Zachariah, the gleeful light in his eyes and the pleased smile on his lips adding more fuel to the fire of his hatred. Even as his victim's movements grew weaker and weaker, indicating that Cas had little to no strength left, the superior angel did not cease to strike him. His foot launched blow after blow to Castiel's gut, drawing pained coughs and groans out of him and all Dean could do was stand there and scream his lungs out._

_The hunter swore in anger and panic, throwing multiple death threats at the detested angel, each more gruesome than the last. Zachariah merely widened his smile at him, clearly gloating in his victory. As he stepped around the now still body on the ground and aimed a final blow at his victim's head, the angel's figure suddenly transformed into a much younger, much larger and much more horrifying appearance._

_Dean's breath caught short in his lungs as he gazed at Sam's tranquil face, his brother's kind smile fooling him for an incredible second, making him believe that everything was all right. But his smile was all wrong. There was compassion, but not care. Benevolence, but not mercy. And nowhere could he find the unconditional love that he knew Sammy always carried within him, no matter how bad things got between them._

_Lucifer spared one more gaze at the lifeless form of Cas lying at his feet, before locking eyes with his vessel's brother, wearing an almost pitying smile._

_"I told you…" he said softly. "This would always happen in Detroit."_

. . .

Dean jerked awake, panting unsteadily for air. He instantly tried to calm himself down, not wanting to wake Lisa who was sleeping soundly next to him.

He was becoming better at not waking up as distraught as he had during his first weeks at her house, making it easier for him not to disturb her with his panic attacks. The thrashing had ceased almost completely, whereas the desperate breathing had become a little subtler. He liked to believe that he was slowly training himself into keeping his horrible nightmares entirely locked up within himself, therefore shielding Lisa from any unnecessary pain.

_Training himself to lock shit away._ Dean almost felt the urge to snort. Yeah, that sure sounded like him.

He lay still on the bed and stared up at the ceiling for a moment, pondering over the bizarre but horrifying images that this latest dream had put in his head. It wasn't the first time that Cas had appeared in one of his nightmares. The son of a bitch had started guest starring in his own personal hell ever since the day he had paid him a visit in Lisa's back yard.

It had been more than a week now since the angel had gone MIA, not once responding to the hunter's frequent prayers and Dean was starting to fear the worst. Castiel had been very specific during their last conversation, putting heavy emphasis on the fact that he had no time left, a day at most. If the angel had indeed decided to retreat from heaven and take the fight elsewhere as he had asked – or more _begged_, but Dean didn't like admitting that to himself – him to… why wouldn't he have shown up by now? Surely he would have let him know that he was ok?

The only other option was that his prayer had either been too late or that Cas had never made it out of heaven. Maybe he was already gone, in the ground, like everyone else.

Dean sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair and trying to keep himself calm. Bleak thoughts like that only exacerbated the catatonia that he was feeling every freaking second without Sammy. And he would not let it get the best of him when he wasn't even sure. Cas was tough, he still had to be out there somewhere! He wouldn't give up hope until he knew for sure.

He only hoped that the angel would soon offer him some sort of sign before this stubborn state of denial threatened to drive him crazy.

. . .

Rain trickled down Castiel's pale skin as he stood silently, his still form appearing almost statuesque on the bleak field. His disheveled black hair stuck to his head in wet strands; the soaked trench coat hanging heavy from his shoulders. All the while the water kept pouring down from the dark clouds in the sky as if it had no intention of ever stopping.

The angel didn't mind the rain or the cold it was causing through his drenched clothes, for he was utterly indifferent to bodily sensations. His grace was superior to any force of nature that existed on earth.

He had allowed himself this moment of peace now that he was finally able to do so, because he was just tired of running. After more than a week of fleeing and hiding and constantly staying on the move to cover his tracks… now that he had finally managed to shake off his pursuers for the time being, Castiel found himself longing for the quiet activity of simply watching life on earth which he had greatly enjoyed for so many millennia.

The only explanation that he could think of for his succeeded escape was that he had somehow gotten extremely lucky. His only advantage had been that his sudden flight came as an enormous surprise for both Raphael and his followers, therefore giving him a few moments head start. The reason for their surprise was that flight was not something that happened often in heaven. In fact it had never really happened at all – save for his own rebellion the previous year – because angels were mostly either too prideful or too submissive to even contemplate the option. Even Lucifer, when he had been cast down to his cage had stood proudly and stubbornly to his opinion, not wanting to submit to any of his brothers but nevertheless accepting the consequences as part of the heavenly order.

It was the reason Castiel had first been so reluctant when Dean had suggested the option. Thousands of years of shaping and conditioning could not be turned off so easily. But the hunter had still managed to win him over, because he was right. He was always right.

Upon first fleeing Castiel had headed straight out of heaven, not wanting to give his pursuers the advantage of hunting him in their place of power, and he had then made his way through several corners of the earth and across various dimensions, trying everything, anything to get rid of them.

For the time being he had succeeded, but he didn't know how long he would be safe. He didn't think he would be safe ever again. He hadn't gone to check on Dean yet, however much he wanted to, because he didn't want to lead his brethren anywhere near him. He didn't want to have to cause the hunter any more trouble than was necessary; he would shield him from this problem as much as possible.

Despite the fact that he was certain about his reasons to not see Dean yet, it didn't make having to avoid him any less painful. The hunter had prayed to him several times after his first fateful prayer that had reached Castiel up in heaven. Some times he had kept it more casual than others, but the pain was always present within his voice, always reminding the angel of what horrors must lie beneath the hardened surface of his friend.

And Dean's pain was even more palpable for him where he stood upon the once destined field of Lawrence, Kansas, staring down at the very spot where Sam Winchester had been swallowed from this world forever.

The wet and dull grass was covered in multiple puddles of mud brought forth by the rain; the scattered gravestones seeming strangely lost through their lack of order. To the naked eye it all appeared to be so boring and ordinary. So ignorant to the vital part it had played in the fate of the world. And also to the part that sadly… it may yet have to play.

"Ah, Castiel…" he suddenly heard a very familiar voice speak behind him. "Angel of Thursday. Just not your day, is it?"

The hostile tingling from his grace, the strong stench of sulfur and the cocky British accent; all those things would have informed him with absolute certainty of who he was dealing with before he even turned around. The former crossroads demon – now ruler of hell – smirked in salute as the angel faced him with an utterly displeased expression.

"What are you doing here?" Castiel demanded.

"Well, credit for the spot pretty much goes to you, mate," Crowley responded lightly. "I figured you'd show your pretty face around here at some point." He showed a self-satisfied smile while leaning forward slightly. "Heroes tend to get sentimental."

Castiel could hear the mocking undertone in the demon's voice and it annoyed him even further. After just having left behind his home and all of his brothers and sisters for the second time, Crowley could not have chosen a worse moment to appeal to his inner tolerance. Well, maybe the smiting would cheer him up.

"What do you want?" the angel growled while taking a threatening step toward his prey.

Crowley held his ground in a visibly relaxed state and shrugged. "I have it on good authority that you are once again heaven's most wanted… isn't that right?"

The spitefulness within his voice only served to enlarge Castiel's anger further. However before the angel made a move to harm him, Crowley – as if he had timed it perfectly – lifted a finger and continued speaking. "Lucky for you I'm here to help."

It was just enough to make Castiel stop in his tracks, letting his hand that he had already been lifting for the attack fall back loosely at his side. Crowley had counted on that of course.

"I want to help you help me help ourselves," he said, the glint in his eyes giving the impression that he was clearly enjoying himself.

Castiel hesitated. As much as his instinct was telling him to attack and smite his natural enemy as fast as possible, reason made him remember that his situation was currently far from hopeful. He narrowed his eyes at the demon, growing even angrier at the fact that he seemed to be so easy to manipulate.

"Speak plain," he ordered gruffly.

"I want to discuss a simple business transaction," Crowley said innocently. "That's all."

Castiel shook his head, huffing in disbelief. "You want to make a deal?" he spelled out the demon's words for him. "With me?"

Crowley held his gaze, his face showing nothing but confidence as he expected the angel's answer.

"I'm an angel, you ass!" Castiel spat out condescendingly. He noticed Crowley's eyebrow quirking up in amusement at his choice of words, but he didn't care because he had heard the expression from Dean enough times to know it was accurate in this context. "I don't have a soul to sell."

"But that's just it, isn't it?" Crowley pointed out, satisfied that Castiel had just provided him with the necessary connection. "It's all of it. It's the souls."

Castiel frowned at the sudden turn in their conversation. What did the still pending apocalypse and his rebellion against heaven have to do with souls?

"It all comes down to the souls in the end, doesn't it?" Crowley concluded, a knowing glint lighting up his eyes.

"What in the hell are you talking about?" Castiel wanted to know, growing exceedingly impatient at the demon's vague comments.

Crowley smirked in amusement before going on. "I'm talking about Raphael's head on a pike. I'm talking about happy endings for all of us, with all possible entendres…" – he cocked his brow teasingly – "…intended."

Castiel eyed the demon from head to toe, weighing suspicion against curiosity. He found himself wondering what kind of plan the king of hell could've come up with to be so completely relaxed at the prospect of the apocalypse being restarted.

"Come on," Crowley nudged him cleverly. "Just a chat."

"I have no interest in talking with you," Castiel responded, letting his extreme dislike for the demon and his discontent with the situation penetrate every syllable. The fact that he emphasized the words with such insistence however, made both of them realize that they weren't really true; he was in fact more and more interested in what Crowley might be able to offer him.

"Why not?" Crowley immediately seized the opportunity, using the angel's indecisiveness to his advantage. "I'm very interesting."

Castiel hesitated, still unsure of what was the best course of action.

"Come on. Hear me out," the demon went on persuading him. "Five minutes. No obligations."

For a brief moment Castiel glanced back at the spot in the middle of the field, where Sam had been swallowed into the cage weeks prior. He had promised himself not to let his sacrifice be in vain. Surely it wouldn't hurt to just hear the demon out, would it?

"I promise…" Crowley smirked at him. "I'll make it worth your while."

. . .

"You didn't make eggs!" Ben said in disappointment, flashing huge, expecting puppy dog eyes at Dean.

The hunter blinked in surprise as Ben took his usual seat at the kitchen table and pulled up his plate that contained only a few pieced of toast. "I didn't know if you wanted 'em," he defended himself. "Thought it gets boring after a while, right?"

Ben vigorously shook his head as he picked up his knife to spread butter on the bread. "No, it doesn't, I love your eggs!"

Dean felt an odd sense of satisfaction at the boy's matter-of-fact response, his face lighting up with the hint of a smile. "Well, in my defense," he chuckled teasingly. "You do eat a lot, buddy!"

"Of course I do," Ben agreed with a shrug as if it were completely obvious. "Food's awesome!"

"I told you, you were spoiling him, Dean," Lisa interrupted their banter, a good-natured smile on her face while she poured Ben a glass of orange juice. "Stop demanding special treatment, sweetie, it's rude."

Ben threw up his hands in defense. "It's not my fault he started making 'em!"

Dean couldn't help but grin at the kid as he argued with his mother, feeling the warm sense of affection nudge his bruised heart. Moments like these were nothing short of a miracle to him; a joyful refuge that managed to make him believe there was still something worth living for. Even if it was just the eventless, peaceful life of a boy and his mother living in the suburbs. _Especially_ that.

"Ok, you good to go?" Dean asked a short while later when Ben was chewing on his last bite of bread. The boy nodded and got up to get his school bag.

Ever since that first morning when the hunter had offered to drive him, the two of them riding to school together had become sort of an every day ritual. Dean didn't mind because it gave him something to do, plus it meant that Ben was warming up to him being around the house… accepting him in a way.

"Remember you guys are meeting up with Al and Jaden at four so don't be late after school, ok?" Lisa called out to her son while he was already hurrying toward the door.

"You got it," Ben responded, waving lazily at her.

"No dawdling with your friends!" Lisa admonished him when he stepped out the door, followed by Dean. He gave her a brief smile and moved to leave the house as well, but she held him back. "Dean, hang on a second."

He waited on the front porch as she walked over to face him in the doorway. For a short moment he was afraid that she would give him bad news, that somehow something terrible had happened, but the cheerful smile on her face made his dread melt into nothingness. Perks of retiring from the hunter-life.

"I haven't told you," she started. "I talked to Sid this morning, you know, about that mechanics job… He said he could really use a helping hand." It was almost endearing how excited she seemed to be by this. "So, if you want to you can go try it out for a while and he'll see if you're any good."

She looked up at him expectantly, but Dean didn't really know what to say. "Oh," he said in surprise. "Wow, that's… That's good news!"

The two of them had talked about finding something that he could do other than just helping her around the house and he was touched to see how passionately she was trying to help him. Maybe having a job, having something to do to occupy him wouldn't be so bad.

"Yeah," Lisa responded, smiling brightly at his positive reaction. "Yeah, it is!"

Dean returned her smile genuinely and tried to think of something else to say. She was so beautiful when she was happy. The sunlight seemed to dance in her eyes, the skin around her mouth crinkling in an adorable way from her dazzling smile. He felt that he should somehow express his gratitude, but once again he needn't have worried, for Lisa understood him perfectly. She understood everything he wanted to say without him saying a single word, like only a few other people had ever done.

"Ok, so…" he went on, aiming to wish her a nice morning, but before he even realized what was happening, Lisa had leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

It was a short kiss; warm and hesitant, asking nothing else than a shared moment of intimacy. Dean gazed at her in utter surprise, trying hard to gather himself from the pleasant, fluttery feeling that was coursing through his body.

"What was that for?" he asked softly and earnestly, wondering where this sudden display of affection had come from.

Lisa merely shrugged and continued smiling at him, their eyes both lingering on each other's faces for a long moment.

"Come on, let's go!" Ben complained impatiently from the shotgun seat, apparently oblivious to the intimate moment the two of them had just shared.

"Go on," Lisa chuckled. "You don't wanna be late!"

Dean flashed one of his most charming grins at her before turning around and heading to the car.

. . .

Castiel gazed at the silent playground that lay before him. Due to the early hours of the morning it was still mostly unoccupied, leaving the various devices looking sadly abandoned without their usual share of laughing children. The sky above him was bright with sunlight, a much more cheerful environment than the graveyard of Lawrence, Kansas. But nothing of all this managed to distract him from the highly unsettling conversation he had just had.

_You can save us, Castiel. God chose you to save us. And I think, deep down… You know that._

What scared the angel the most was how much he could feel part of himself straining to follow the demon's cunning words. As much as Castiel knew that Crowley always had his own agenda, that he was never to be trusted… there had been a terrible amount of truth to what he had said.

To start a civil war in heaven… It would be unpleasant, yes. Horrible. But avoidable? Probably not. He despised the very idea of bringing harm to any of his brothers, even the ones who supported Raphael, but he knew that if he wanted to keep on fighting then he would ultimately have no choice.

He could not do this on his own. But then again he wasn't so sure that he could even get enough of his kin to follow him. None of them were as adamantly certain of his beliefs as he was. Most of them were too immersed in the thousand-year-old order; soldiers, all of them. Did they view him as strong enough to be followed? Did he have the potential to lead them?

Castiel was almost ashamed of himself when he realized that he was prideful enough to believe that he did. He was confident enough to think he was capable of tearing up the entire kingdom and remaking it into something he believed in… much like Lucifer had been.

However this was where Crowley had been right again! Castiel wasn't Lucifer. He wasn't a petulant and disloyal monster who would betray God himself, his own Father; he never would be because he loved his Father more than anything in existence. He didn't want Raphael to destroy everything that his Father had undoubtedly wanted. If he fought against it, wasn't that doing the right thing?

Yes, Castiel knew that this was true. This was what Dean had been talking about when he had told him to keep fighting. This was what free will was truly about, to choose his own path of what he believed to be right.

But it was Crowley!

Castiel ground his teeth together; another very human gesture that he had become accustomed to after spending so much time on earth. He felt the strong need to strike himself for his endless stupidity.

What was he even thinking, seriously considering the deal that Crowley had offered him? He was a demon. He knew everything about how entirely wrong it was to work with a demon and an extremely evil and cunning one at that. If he agreed to that, all good intentions would instantly be lost to the extreme darkness of the power that he would be giving the king of hell.

But at the same time what other options did he have?

Dean himself had told him that he needed to find a third option; that he could choose to fight. If he was certain about one thing, it was of the fact that he did not have even remotely enough power to take on Raphael and his followers. Crowley had now opened up a doorway, a possibility in which he could achieve the necessary power. Could this be that exact third option that he had been looking for?

Castiel had seldom found himself so torn over something in his life. He kept weighing the positive against the negative sides of this possibility and he landed at a dead end every single time.

He didn't know what to do.

_Tell me what to do._

A mother and her young daughter passed the bench he was sitting on and headed into the playground; the first occupants of the day.

_Give me a sign, Father._ _Please._

Castiel raised his head slightly to look up at the sky, the only place he could direct his pleas meant for an absent Father.

_What should I do?_

The child's excited giggling from the playground was the only perceivable sound to interrupt the tranquil morning silence.


	7. Chapter 6

**Yes! I'm still alive if you were wondering... And horribly sheepish for updating so late! One would think meeting Misha friggin Collins at AECON 4 would fuel my imagination even more but instead it served to distract me :P Oh, well, here you go!**

**I don't know exactly when the next one will be out, cause I'm in the middle of finals at university right now *cringes painfully*, but hey on the bright side, after that I'll be on Summer break meaning I'll have all the time in the world ^_^**

**Betad once again by my wonderful Ninjakittee, or wait, I suppose I should call her Heaven's Eagle now... Ok, betad by my lovely Eagle!**

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The ride to school was spent in amicable chatter, both Dean and Ben speaking of the plans they had made for the afternoon. Only a few days ago the hunter had managed to obtain four tickets to a baseball game in the city, two for them and two for a neighborhood friend of Ben's and his father. Dean felt rather pleased with himself for having achieved such a special treat for the boy, especially when he remembered the large-eyed and happily excited gaze he had received in return.

Apart from his satisfaction at making Ben happy, he couldn't deny that he himself was getting slightly excited, anticipating their trip. Dean had only ever been to a handful of baseball games in his unusual life and half of those had been spent in the constant shadow of dread that his father would find it a waste of time. He remembered one time, when he had been about eight or nine years old, that Bobby had grabbed him and his brother and decided to give them a fun day at the stadium, instead of working on their training as John had requested. He had no doubt gotten in trouble for that later.

Just him and Sammy had also shared the experience a few times on their own. Dean knew that his baby brother had always relished the feeling of doing something so completely normal, almost as if it had made him forget – if only for a few hours – about the horrors of his day-to-day life. He tried once again to not think about any of that too much and instead focus on the happily rambling kid riding shotgun in the car.

That first ride to school a few weeks ago, which had started out in mostly awkward silence, now seemed extremely absurd. There was not a moment in the car when Ben would stop talking and Dean was always interested in what he had to say. The other day the two of them had even continued on talking with the car already parked in front of the school building, not even realizing that the boy was about to be late until they heard the sound of the bell.

It made the hunter feel incredibly warm inside, simply knowing that the kid was comfortable enough to talk about pretty much anything. He felt such a strong amount of affection for Ben that he knew he would do almost anything to ensure his wellbeing.

A feeling that was more than vaguely familiar to him.

"All right," Dean said when they had finally pulled up next to the school building. "Remember what your mom said, make sure you don't hang around after school, ok?"

"Sure thing," Ben responded, rolling his eyes with an amused chuckle.

"Awesome!" Dean smirked, lifting up his fist and holding it up expectantly toward the kid. "See you later then."

Ben smiled cheerfully and completed the fist bump, before taking his bag and getting out of the car. He turned around to close the door, not without giving the hunter one more excited comment. "Dude, this is gonna be freaking sweet!"

Even when the boy had already reached the stairs, Dean was surprised to find that he was still smiling. That had to be some kind of record. He just couldn't resist the affectionate, warm feeling that illuminated him while he watched Ben disappear into the school building. Well, he might as well enjoy it while it lasted.

When Dean turned in his seat to restart the car, he jumped so violently that his knees crashed into the hard plastic interior of the vehicle, his arms colliding painfully with the steering wheel. He had momentarily freaked at the realization of no longer being alone in the car.

"Goddamn it, Cas!" He swore angrily, a deep scowl embedding itself on his face as he glared at the trench-coated figure sitting next to him.

The angel frowned and tilted his head in confusion, but this only served to enlarge Dean's exasperation.

"Would you fucking not do that, please?" he scolded his friend, knowing inwardly that Castiel's sudden and surprising appearance was by far not the only reason for his rising frustration. He had spent more than a week fearing that the guy was dead!

"I do not understand," Cas responded, blue eyes wide and questioning. "I waited until the child left the car. Is this not a suitable time?"

"No, _suitable_ is if you walk up to me or announce yourself like a normal person instead of giving me a frickin' heart attack!" Dean barked roughly, continuing his angry rant toward the angel when in fact he knew that this wasn't what he was really upset about.

Aside from the sudden rush of adrenaline that came along with his friend appearing out of nowhere, there was one other feeling that currently dominated the hunter stronger than anything he had felt in a while.

Relief. One glance at Cas and he had not been able to stop the insane amount of relief that flooded every ounce of his body. Excited shivers ran down his back, his limbs miraculously having lost some of the usual numbness that now seemed to follow him wherever he went. He had wanted to believe so badly that the angel had made it out of his home, that he was alive and hiding somewhere out there, but the many years of experience and horror hadn't been able to keep him from expecting the worst. And now here he was, frowning, ignorant to social behavior and wearing his tie backwards like nothing had ever happened.

"I thought you were dead, man, where the hell have you been?" Dean said accusingly, green eyes shooting upset daggers at the angel.

He was not good with words and he never would be. He would never find anything suitable to express what he was feeling toward Cas. All he could do was take out all the building anxiety laden with fear from his past week and all the frustration for him not showing up earlier on the poor angel.

_Great job, Winchester._

Castiel's face instantly fell at the accusation and hidden pain that was no doubt palpable in the hunter's voice.

"I'm sorry, Dean," he murmured sincerely. "I felt it was unwise to reveal myself earlier. I didn't want to lead my brothers here."

"Your brothers?" Dean asked, brow furrowing in dislike.

"Yes, the ones pursuing me," Castiel sighed, leaning back in his seat, a deeply thoughtful gaze coloring the handsome features of Jimmy Novak's face.

"Oh."

Dean couldn't help the fact that he instantly felt guilty at the obvious sadness in his friend's voice. And he should damn well feel guilty, he thought. After all he had been the one to talk the angel into defying his home once more, therefore turning against his entire family. Maybe he really should try not giving the dude such a hard time for not showing up until now.

Meanwhile Cas made no further comment about his situation, but instead started looking around at the interior of the car they were in with somewhat of a passive fascination.

"So what happened?" Dean pushed, trying hard to keep the strongly reproachful edge out of his voice.

"This is not your car," the angel stated factually, as if he had only just consciously noticed the absence of the Impala and fiddled around with some of the buttons on the dashboard.

"Uh, no," Dean agreed, too distracted to go into the topic any further. "Cas, what exactly went down upstairs?"

Castiel shrugged carelessly, his eyes fixed on the CD player as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. "I ran," he said.

Dean stared at him for moment, waiting for him elaborate further, but nothing came. "You ran?" he repeated.

A second later Castiel had suddenly managed to press the play button and the car was filled with the sounds of an emotional ballad blaring from the speakers.

"Dude!" Dean exclaimed, hitting the stop button in frustration and shooting the angel an annoyed look. "Knock it off, will you?"

Cas merely gave him a questioning frown, accompanied by his trademark tilting of the head. "This is not your music."

"No, it- Lisa likes different stuff than I do!" Dean grumbled reluctantly, repressing the urge to swear as the angel's eyes only grew more curious. "And I only have cassette-tapes – Ok, listen!"

He turned in his seat to face the angel more directly. "Instead of messing around in here, you mind telling me what the hell is going on?"

Castiel didn't respond, but redirected his gaze to look out the window once again. It suddenly became very clear to Dean that he hadn't been fidgeting merely for fun. There was something very distinct on his mind that he wanted to talk about, but probably didn't know exactly how to bring into words.

"Come on, talk to me," Dean encouraged him with a slightly gentler tone. "You said you ran."

Castiel nodded slowly, before speaking. "Yes, I… I heard your prayer," he hesitated for a moment, avoiding Dean's gaze and the hunter found himself suddenly praying that he wouldn't be thrust into an awkward chick-flick moment. He needn't have worried though. "I was in heaven and I told Raphael that I wouldn't bow down to him… And I fled before he could give the order to kill me."

While speaking the angel's voice had gone down several notches, until all that remained was a barely audible murmur. But the low volume still didn't stop Dean from recognizing the most distinguished emotion that filled his words: shame. Cas was ashamed of having run away instead of facing his fate head-on. It made the hunter feel even angrier toward that fucking heavenly order, depriving the angels of any sense of self-worth or –preservation. Producing nothing but mindless puppets to follow orders.

However he decided to not voice any of his rage at this moment, for he had a feeling that this wouldn't really help Cas in his current situation. So he decided to ignore it for the time being.

"And then?" he wanted to know.

Cas looked up to meet his gaze again and there was a very slight hint of grateful affection shining from his blue eyes that made Dean realize he had made the right call. The angel really didn't want to have to linger on his own self-doubt right now.

"Then I ran… and ran," he continued, a sigh accompanying the repeat, indicating how long and exhausting his flight had proven to be. "I think I managed to lose them right now, but… It's only a matter of time until they find me again." He gave Dean an apologetic look, knowing that the hunter would rather not have him leave. "I can't stay in one place too long, Dean. I'm sorry."

Dean nodded silently, processing the information and at the same time trying to control his enormous need for action. He wanted to help so badly, wanted to be able to get rid of this sucky situation that his friend was in. "It won't be like that forever," he said sternly, his voice offering more confidence than he was feeling. "We'll find a way, Cas, we just friggin' have to!"

Castiel didn't respond, looking down at his own hands with a strange look on his face.

"We'll work out a plan B!" Dean insisted, wanting to break through the angel's hopelessness. "I promise!"

After a moment of silence Cas suddenly turned to look at him again, his eyes bearing a strange conflict between hope and reluctance. "What if I had a way?" he said, his voice so incredibly quiet that Dean had to strain his ears to hear.

"What?" he retorted, a sharp edge of incredulity penetrating the word.

Castiel continued gazing at him with that strange look in his eyes.

"You're telling me you've got a plan B and you haven't told me about it yet?" Dean felt his voice threatening to turn reproachful again, but it was overshadowed by his eagerness to learn more.

The angel shifted uneasily. "I… I'm not sure," he murmured, looking down at his entwined fingers.

Only now noticing that they were still parked outside of Ben's school, Dean suddenly threw on the engine and pulled out onto the street. "Tell you what," he said. "I'll drive, you talk!"

And Castiel did. Hesitant and vague at first, but he did. He squirmed around the topic for several minutes, evidently not knowing how to best ease the hunter into the unpleasant possibility until he finally seemed to see no other way than to just blurt it out.

Crowley had proposed a deal.

_Crowley._

Before Dean could do much more than exclaim the name disbelievingly, Castiel quickly cut him off and implored him to listen. The angel insisted that he could explain everything, that it was different than it sounded and that he could make him understand if he only listened. So Dean listened, all the while driving his car along the streets back to Lisa's place while Cas continued telling him everything about Crowley's plan, down to the last detail. The hunter could hear simply from his friend's contradicting arguments, how torn in himself he actually was. For a full five minutes the angel basically just argued with himself without even giving Dean a chance to weigh in, until he finally decided to pull the car into the parking lot of a supermarket only a few minutes away from the house.

Cas interrupted his torn ramblings, shooting him a confused gaze when he threw the car in park and turned toward him in full attack mode.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Dean growled at the stunned angel, his voice sounding dangerously menacing. "You're not seriously considering working with Crowley, right?"

Castiel stared back at him with equal intensity but somehow couldn't manage to find the right words.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean exclaimed angrily, slamming his hand down on the steering wheel so furiously that he almost thought he saw a slight flinch tremor the angel's vessel. Holy crap, had he just managed to make an angel of the Lord jump? That would sure be a first.

"What the hell are you thinking, man?" he bellowed so loudly that people across the street behind closed windows were probably able to hear him. He didn't really care. "You wanna be in with Crowley? _Crowley_?"

"What else can we do, Dean?" Castiel responded, blue eyes gleaming with rage as if the hunter's loud voice had suddenly brought him out of his dumbstruck position. "I don't like this any more than you do, but there aren't really any other options we can chose from!"

"Well, we ain't picking this option!" Dean insisted, refusing to back down. "I don't care what you wanna use it for, it's wrong!"

"Why is it wrong, Dean?" Cas fought back, desperately wanting Dean to see his point of view. "You're the one who told me that I have to fight! That we can't let them get away with this! If we chose to appose them isn't that doing the right thing?"

"God, you're a frickin' child, Cas!" Dean snorted derisively. "Yeah, I get it! Never mind the crappy means, right? As long as the end goal's some kind of a perfect paradise! You know, you're sounding a fucking lot like Zach right now."

"Dean"-

"Shut your damn pie-hole, Cas!" Dean barked in frustration. "You know that this is wrong, man, why else didn't you tell me right away? You know it's wrong!"

Castiel bashfully averted his gaze, apparently not knowing how to argue against that. Dean didn't give him the chance either, taking the angel's momentary silence as an opportunity to press his point.

"You wanna open Purgatory," he stated gruffly. "A place I didn't even know friggin' existed- What, is it like a hole full of monster-souls? What do you think that's gonna do, man? What the hell are you gonna do with that kind of power?"

"I can beat Raphael with it," Cas said quietly, still refusing to meet Dean's eyes.

"Well, forget about that dick for a moment," Dean went on. "What do you think Crowley's gonna do with a shitload of power like that? What, use them to plant flowers? Open up a frickin' candy shop?"

The angel had no response to that.

"It's Crowley, Cas!" Dean said, desperately wanting his friend to get this. "He's got his own fucking agenda with everything!"

"I can deal with Crowley," Cas stated. "I'm stronger than him."

"Yeah, and Michael and Lucifer were stronger than all of us!" Dean retorted angrily, which earned him a frustrated sigh from Castiel.

"So what do you propose we do?" he asked in utter exasperation.

"We deal with it!" Dean said aggressively. "Like we always do when crap like this comes around! What we don't do is we don't go out and make another deal with the devil!"

Cas remained silent for a moment, his gaze resting on his clenched hands once again. He then spoke his next words with a softness and decisiveness that momentarily made the hunter fall completely silent.

"You did."

The words were barely louder than a whisper, but they did the trick. Dean was at a loss for words, incapable of any other action than simply staring at the angel with a dumbstruck expression.

He found that he would have to gather his thoughts for a moment, because how could he argue with that? Cas was right. He was the last person on earth to call anyone else on making deals.

"Yeah… That's right, I did." he started cautiously, fully aware of the fact that he couldn't deny this one. "And look where it landed us, man." Dean drew a deep breath. "Breaking the seals, bringing around the frickin' apocalypse… And now Sammy's trapped in that fucking cage going through God knows what!"

The anger had quickly made its way back into his initially quiet voice and Dean could see it immediately taking effect on Castiel as the angel's eyes grew wide and guilt-stricken.

"I… I'm sorry, Dean," he instantly whispered, the signs of deep regret appearing on his face. "I didn't mean"-

"I know," Dean soothed him gently, not wanting the angel to get worked up over an unnecessary apology. "I know you didn't."

Blue, sheepish eyes continued resting on him as the two of them sat in silence for a moment. It was remarkably quiet on the parking lot, seeing as this was the hour when a lot of people usually started shopping. Maybe some folks had heard the angry yelling and were now too nervous to come anywhere near the car. That thought was strangely amusing to Dean.

"Listen, Cas…" he sighed, feeling incredibly tired all of a sudden. "You're right. I shouldn't really be the guy warning you about stuff like that. Hell, I'd probably be the first mook jumping on the deal if this could bring Sammy back from the pit."

Castiel said nothing and simply observed his friend from the side.

"But hey, I think that means you can sure as hell believe me when I tell you that crap like that never ends well," Dean chuckled humorlessly. "I'm telling you, man, this isn't the way."

The hunter trapped the angel in an almost pleading gaze, the intensity within his green eyes proving the sincerity of his words.

"We'll find something else," he insisted softly. "Just… just give it a little time."

Cas now seemed even more torn than before, his pained eyes flickering across various features of Dean's face. "I won't be able to elude them forever, Dean."

"I know, just…" Dean swore internally at the stubbornness of the celestial being. Some things would just never change. "Just please, promise me that you won't do it right now. That we'll try to find a plan… C."

Castiel frowned briefly at the expression. "I hear plan Cs don't usually have that high of a success rate," he remarked dryly.

Dean rolled his eyes in annoyance before responding. "We'll figure something out, Cas," he said stubbornly. "We will!"

He hoped to God that they would.


	8. Chapter 7

**Finals are over! *celebrates* I think I survived them all right, though I'm gonna have to wait a whole while for the results ugh! Oh well, who cares as long as I finally have time to write fan fiction yayyy! ^_^ I also wanted to thank all of you for the lovely reviews I've received since the last chapter, thank you so much for all the support :)  
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**Here's a longer chapter for you to make up for the long while you had to wait ;) Thanks as always to Heaven's Eagle for betaing, hope you like it!**

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At first sight Castiel found himself to be very suspicious of the empty warehouse he had just appeared in. It was quiet, cold and deserted, normally not unusual for a place like this – if it weren't for the presence that had called him here.

He had felt the call of the familiar grace reach out to him, unsure of how to react to it. No form of angelic contact was safe for him at the moment, for they were all subject to the order of delivering him to Raphael. Yet in light of the otherwise trusting familiarity of that specific angel, he had decided to come despite his doubts.

It didn't make him feel much safer however.

"Castiel," he heard the female voice of the Rachel's vessel speak behind him.

He turned around to face her and instantly canvassed her surroundings to assure himself that this wasn't a trap. "You summoned me here?" he asked uncertainly.

She nodded slowly. "I need to talk to you."

Castiel glanced to the side again, taking in the empty surroundings. There was no one here but her, for now at least. "You're alone?" Even if he could tell himself, he wanted her assurance of it.

Rachel gave him a strange look, offering one of the seldom hints at an emotional display, which all angels so rarely succumbed to. "Nobody else knows I'm here," she said. "I would never betray you in such a way." She bowed her head, trying to conceal the fact that she was offended he would even consider such a possibility.

The superior angel let a brief flicker of fondness cross his features before resuming his normal, ineloquent expression. "Of course," he stated. "My apologies."

Lifting her head back up again, Rachel stepped closer to him, moving only mere inches out of his personal space. A space that he now knew existed after Dean had made sure to remind him of it several times. The angel's grey eyes showed the same amount of confusion and helplessness that he had seen in her before he had decided to leave heaven. It almost served to make him regret his decision.

"Why did you leave?" she asked almost desperately. "Why didn't you stand up to Raphael?"

Castiel sighed, trying to think of a way to explain. He had so badly hoped that his flight hadn't caused her to think he had abandoned her. "Rachel, I did stand up to him," he said. "I… I just didn't want it to be in vain."

"In vain?" Rachel asked disbelievingly. "Why would it be in vain if you choose to follow God's will?"

"You and I both know he would have killed me if I stayed, sister," Castiel responded sadly, blue eyes giving way to his increasing regret. "A good friend made me realize… That it makes more sense to go on."

The other angel briefly averted her gaze, an unusual edge coloring her voice. "And that friend is Dean Winchester."

Castiel frowned at her accusing tone. "What?"

"Everyone knows you prefer the company of that peculiar human above all of your own kin."

Before Castiel even had a chance to respond, Rachel's grey eyes widened in shock, as if she had only just consciously realized what she had said to her superior. She instantly took a few steps back and bowed her head courteously.

"Forgive me," she whispered, her voice now sounding incredibly abject as she awaited his reaction.

Castiel understood her behavior perfectly well, for if any other angel had allowed himself to speak his mind so openly toward his superior as she had just done, the respective superior would not hesitate to issue severe consequences. But what could he really say to her? To punish any type of disobedience would put him in a laughably hypocritical situation as he was somewhat of a model of disobedience himself, not to mention the fact that such an action would go against everything he now believed in. Besides, he wasn't even sure he was still allowed to execute any form of punishment as his status as an outlaw and fugitive toward his own home hardly made him her superior anymore.

"Rachel," he started again, deciding to ignore her resentment towards Dean and return to the issue at hand. "I need you to understand that I did not abandon you."

Rachel lifted her head in surprise and stared at him for a long moment. Apparently the amount of change he had gone through since his first rebellion against heaven still wasn't something she was used to. Within a few moments the surprise in her eyes disappeared and was replaced by something resembling… awe. Awe and devotion and love.

Castiel was not comfortable with this. He did not deserve awe or devotion simply because he hadn't carried out an act of punishment toward his subordinate which seemed absurd to him anyway. Therefore he decided to ignore it as well.

"I am not abandoning you," he repeated adamantly. "I am still fighting, I do not want Raphael to succeed, but… I don't know how."

The last words escaped his mouth in a fleeting whisper and he saw Rachel's gaze soften in compassion and understanding at the confession. It was clear just from the look in her eyes that she did not doubt the truth behind his words for a second.

"Then I will help you," she decided confidently. "Whatever you decide, I will stand behind you."

"Thank you," Castiel said softly, gratitude shining honestly from his bright eyes.

Rachel nodded curtly, as if it were self-evident.

During a brief moment of silence, Castiel pondered over the possibilities that it would bring him to have Rachel on his side. It would no doubt be helpful to have a source inside heaven so he would no longer be cut off and on his own, but other than that he didn't think it changed the situation much. It still kept him hopelessly vulnerable toward Raphael and anyone that was on his side.

"We will need help," Rachel voiced after a while, as if she had been following the same train of thought. "Perhaps the rest of the garrison…"

"Do you think they will still support me?" Castiel asked, though his hopes were slim.

"I cannot tell," Rachel responded sadly. "It will not be easy to convince them… Most of them are under the impression that… you…"

"Abandoned them," Castiel finished her sentence with a sigh. "I can't blame them. I wish I had had time to explain before leaving…"

He could recall Hester's indignant gaze only too well.

"I will talk to them," Rachel declared with finality. "Once they know your reasons they have to know you are still following your truthful path."

Her passion made him want to smile, for it reminded him of the wonderful feeling of excitement he had experienced upon his return to heaven. But it also scared him, because it was only too clear to him what Raphael would do to anyone who was trying to help him.

"Be careful," he told her, unable to keep the worry from his voice. "Raphael…" He couldn't bring himself to say anything further, but he knew that she understood the risks of what she was doing. Otherwise she would never have decided to stand behind him.

"I will," she nodded.

After a soft flutter of wings, which accompanied her departure, Castiel found himself standing on his own within the empty warehouse.

. . .

Dean couldn't take it anymore. He simply _could not do this anymore._

After a particularly horrifying set of nightmares, which had ripped him wide awake at two thirty in the morning and wiped out all possibility of ever going back to sleep again, he had hauled himself out of bed and descended down into the living room. But somehow that had only made it worse, for the giant, ever-similar house was starting to suffocate him. It was always the same, _every frickin' day_! So different from the life he was used to living – the life that had never kept him in the same spot for too long, always on the move halfway across the country and never settling down.

So he had decided the unthinkable, something that he had forbidden himself from doing after moving in here with Lisa and Ben. He had stalked into the garage in the middle of the night and ripped the giant canvas off his shimmering and magnificent baby. She had looked the same as she always had; tough, badass and all around gorgeous. He had got behind the wheel and relished the feeling the familiar leather and interior of the car brought forth within him, awakening the deep seeded truth that there was no place he belonged more in the entire world.

Careful not to rev up the engine too loudly to not wake up the boy and woman that were still asleep inside the house, he had took off down the street and drove his way out of town, driving somewhere, _anywhere_ besides there.

He had thought that the familiar feeling of driving his beloved Impala and blasting his favorite tunes in the middle of the night, as he had done countless times in his life, would make him somehow feel less empty, less destroyed than he had felt inside that big, unfamiliar house. But he should have known better.

He should have known that the one place he would be reminded more than anything of the giant hole that had been ripped into his existence, was the home that he had lived in his entire life. A home that could never again be a warm and comforting home without the presence of his bigger-than-life brother riding shotgun next to him.

So here he was, driving down inner state in his awesome car, screaming to AC/DC at the top of his lungs and feeling emptier, more irrelevant and nonexistent than ever before.

He couldn't fucking take it anymore.

Suddenly he became incredibly aware of the enormous amount of weapons at his disposal in the back of the car. He had not changed anything about her since moving in with Lisa. All his swords, knives, iron, talismans, holy water, everything… All of them could be put to use if he wanted.

The only question was of course _how_ he would use them.

He hadn't been in the hunter's business for a while now. No one called him anymore to inform him about a possible job. Bobby had seen to that. What would he even do? He couldn't just walk into the woods and look for vampires. It occurred to him briefly that he could go online and google for 'freaky accidents', a thing he had always liked to do even if Sammy had teased him about it.

Sammy.

Of course there was always an entirely different option of use for his tools. Something that would help him get rid of the problem altogether

It wasn't like he had never brought it upon himself before. Maybe he hadn't exactly pulled the trigger, but still it was the same thing. It wasn't like there was something keeping him here, not like he had something to lose. There was nothing _left_ to lose, because everything he _was_ had been swallowed down into that dark abyss and disappeared from the world.

He wasn't even really here anymore. Without Sam he was just a shadow. He might as well be one of those frickin' ghosts himself, then some other hunter would come along and gank him for good measure instead of him having to decide this shit himself.

The decision would have been clear, so fucking _clear_ if it wasn't for that… That promise.

It was the only reason why every time he put his finger on the trigger of his favorite gun that he still kept with him at all times; every time he looked into its barrel… he didn't do it. He couldn't do it.

Fighting his rising feeling of claustrophobia Dean pounded his foot down onto the gas pedal and pushed his roaring and willing baby up toward almost a hundred miles per hour.

He couldn't go to Bobby's, he was avoiding that place for all it was worth, because he knew that everything about it and the old man would bring back even more disastrous memories. But he couldn't just sit here and drive, he needed to fucking kill something, or better yet rip it apart with his bare hands right now or he would go crazy.

He needed something to do because every second he didn't… he had to force himself to not pray to Cas. Force himself not to call upon the angel and take back everything he had said in their last encounter, because he wanted to take the deal more than anything.

Dean Winchester was the worst sort of hypocrite alive. He was very aware of that. He had sat in that car, yelling at his friend for his endless stupidity when in fact every fiber of his own being was screaming for action. He knew making a deal was bullshit, he knew Crowley would abuse the targeted power for all manner of gruesome activity, he knew that something was bound to go wrong with a nuclear reactor like friggin' _Purgatory_, but the largest part of him didn't care. None of it was important; none of it meant anything to him.

What if Cas had been right? Mabye they really should make that deal with Crowley, it wasn't like they had a whole lot of other options to choose from. He didn't really give a shit about that dick Raphael but if anyone had the power to reopen the cage, it was him.

_Millions upon millions of souls_, he recalled the angel's words, _all of them are trapped there._

He couldn't let his brother's sacrifice be in vain, he just couldn't. So what if the whole fucking world would go up in smoke if he went through with this? The world was worthless anyway without Sammy in it. He might as well decide for a way of destruction that wouldn't include his brother having to lend his body for it. Of the two options, he was absolutely sure of which one he would rather take.

"Damn it!" Dean exclaimed angrily as he slammed the palm of his hand down on the steering wheel, causing the Impala to sway dangerously through the momentum of her enormous speed.

In addition to all the panic and pain threatening to cut off his way of breathing once again, he was now unbelievably pissed at himself. Here he had been basically wailing on Cas for how infinitely stupid he was for even considering a deal with Crowley when he himself was not better in the slightest. What was he even thinking?

He wasn't thinking, that was it. His head had received a giant crack after the horrendous bashing from Lucifer and had never fully healed and now the rest of humanity was paying the price for it. It was as good an explanation as any.

From one second to the next the car was just too much. He couldn't be here any longer, he couldn't breathe, he needed to get _out_.

Slamming his foot down on brake with the same force as he had done to the gas pedal only minutes ago, he slowed his baby down from her maniacal speed as quickly as he could, maneuvering the roaring and protesting car over to the side of the road. Moments later she came to a screeching halt, enabling him to finally throw open the door and leap out, desperately removing himself from his childhood home.

For a moment the hunter just stood there in silence, planted several feet away from the shining black car with its door still widely ajar. He tried to steady his breathing, fisting his hands in his short hair and pulling to feel something, anything. His throat was slowly clamping up and he noticed that there were violent tremors running through several parts of his body.

Trying to snap himself out of it by raw force Dean quickly stepped forward again and slammed the car door shut, roaring aloud in frustration in synchrony to the clanking metal. He used both his hands to angrily thrust against the car again, only to bring them up to his head again moments later and clasping his temples in agitation.

_Don't have a breakdown don't have a breakdown don't have a breakdown._

He paced back and forth next to the Impala, mentally shouting the words at himself. He felt his eyes moistening and his body shaking, expressing the extreme panic that was about to take hold of him.

He came to a stop again behind his car and violently slammed his fists down onto the hood, hitting it again and again.

As he was lashing out for another shot, he suddenly stopped dead in his motions. His knees grew weak and his battered hand curled on the small dent he had made in the top of the trunk. That exact spot where he had hit her.

His baby had now paid the price for his two greatest failures.

Slowly bringing his still extended hand back down, Dean braced himself on the back of the car, trying hard not to let his legs give in. It was all he could do not to sob out loudly into the night.

. . .

Castiel could honestly say that he was extremely nervous.

It had been more than a few days since he had seen Rachel and during that time he had made sure to keep himself hidden, constantly staying on the move and making sure to leave no clues about his whereabouts. He knew that there was nothing he could really do until she could provide him with some information on what was happening in heaven or if by some miracle a solution would suddenly appear out of nowhere. The latter was less than probable.

But now after what had seemed like an eternity to him, he had finally received another call from that same warm and familiar grace, telling him that he would finally get some answers.

He let his wings carry him to its place of origin, a secluded spot beneath a motorway bridge. Upon arrival though the slightly excited buzz of his grace vanished and he froze in his tracks.

Angels, there were so many angels around him. Why were they all here? Had he run into a trap, were they here to kill him? And they weren't just any angels, he realized with relative ease at all the familiarity around him. He certainly hadn't expected to see sixty percent of his garrison here, all surrounding him in a large circle.

He briefly felt a pang of fear flutter within him as he once again contemplated the option that he might have walked into a trap. However he visibly relaxed once he looked upon Rachel's vessel and felt the warmth of affection brush from her presence against his own. He knew from the uneasy and distressed shivers within her grace that complications would still arise, but he trusted her. She would never betray him.

"Castiel." A strict, calculating voice was the first to speak.

The angel slowly turned around to face the blonde woman who had just spoken.

"Hester," he nodded his head in acknowledgement, instantly noticing the high amount of doubt shining from her presence.

"Rachel informs us that you are still on our side," Hester announced, though it was clear from her tone of voice and her appearance that she would not believe such a fact until she had seen it for herself.

"Yes, that is correct," Castiel responded, turning on the spot to look at each of his brothers and sisters separately. Some appeared to be more benevolent toward him than others, but all of them stood together confidently in their tight circle, making it clear to him that they would not let him leave until they had reached their decision. The angel had a feeling that he was about to be put through a thorough interrogation.

"You don't believe me," he realized when he had finally turned back to face Hester.

"No," she agreed. "As of now, I don't."

Castiel felt Rachel's grace behind him shiver once again in anxiety. He braced himself for the questions he was sure would follow.

"This is not the first time you have decided to disappear from heaven without a word of explanation!" she started angrily.

Castiel sighed. "Hester"-

"You turned your back on all of your own kind!" she cut him off with an air of powerful finality. "We didn't know where you were or what was happening! All we were told was that you had betrayed our Father!"

"You know that is not true, sister…" Castiel's voice was calm and earnest, his eyes begging her to understand.

"Do I?" she whispered, her anger now suddenly dissolving and leaving behind nothing but confusion. "I believed when you returned, Castiel. I truly did. You let us all believe that you knew undoubtedly what was God's will. And we would have followed you."

Castiel did not need to look at all the other members of the garrison to know that she was right. He had felt their loyalty himself, known at the core of his being that this was a group of siblings that would follow him anywhere, even if that wasn't exactly what he had wanted to achieve with his speech about free will.

"You were so adamant. So sure that this was exactly what God wanted." She was staring at him intently, as if trying to figure out what was going on inside him. "But how can you be when Raphael so clearly states otherwise?"

And that was when Castiel fully understood her. She was not doubting him. She was not doubting his decision to leaven heaven. She was doubting her own _doubts_ toward the system. She had been trained her entire existence to follow orders towards one single purpose from her superiors, and now that she suddenly found herself with two different directions to chose from, she didn't know what to do.

He knew exactly what was going on inside her, for it had been exactly the way he had felt when he had first met Dean. The first time since his creation having someone who was suddenly questioning everything he knew, everything he had never even thought to scrutinize. He remembered times when he had been flooded with panic, trying to deny everything that Dean had ever told him, because he had been too overwhelmed by the fact that his mind was suddenly working for himself rather than only for orders.

It had been the most terrifying time in his life. Scarier than travelling to hell or losing his grace or even facing Lucifer and Michael. Because he had never doubted himself and everything he stood for as much as during those moments when Dean had tried to convince him to fight for what was right.

He did not wish that feeling on anyone, even if he knew that it was impossible to ever be free from heaven's vice-like grip without going through that process. The least he could do was try to keep any of his kin from going through it alone, as he had been forced to.

"I don't know how I can be so sure," he said softly. "I know all of us were trained to work toward the apocalypse, to think that ultimate paradise is the only way to achieve God's will, but… I still believe in the true purpose of how He placed us."

Castiel felt a slight brush run over him from Rachel's grace again and he knew that she was displaying the same amount of awe and devotion that he knew he did not want. All he wanted was for them to understand his motives for his actions.

"Our Father destined us to protect his most beloved creation, to stand watch over humanity. I don't believe it would ever be within his will to watch millions upon millions of them die, even if it is with the purpose of achieving paradise."

He looked at Hester, who was still staring at him, apparently clinging to his every word.

"That is the reason why I don't want the apocalypse to be fought," he carried on. "But it was foolish of me to believe that every angel in heaven would feel the same way. I have no doubts that… Raphael and whoever follows him will stop at nothing to go through with it."

He sighed inwardly as he remembered Crowley's words toward him. Civil war really seemed unavoidable at this point.

"I don't want to fight any of my brothers and sisters," he said sadly. "But I still believe that freedom is something worth fighting for, so… I will keep on fighting for as long as I can. This is what path I choose, but I cannot tell you what to do. I can't order you."

He looked left and right at the different members of his garrison and then back at Hester. "That is your choice."

A long moment of silence ensued after he had finished speaking. None of the angels seemed sure of what to do with themselves. Hester was now staring at the ground, evidently at a loss for words.

_Explaining freedom to angels is a bit like teaching poetry to fish_, Castiel suddenly remembered his own analogy. He wondered if any of them even understood the concept of making their own choice.

"I'll stand with you," a clear and confident voice suddenly broke the silence.

Castiel instantly turned to look at Rachel, his grace emanating all the affection and undying gratitude that he felt the moment he heard her speak. Of course she had already declared her loyalty toward him personally, but it was entirely different to do it so confidently before a large group of unsure garrison members.

"So will I," a second voice spoke up moments later and Castiel was surprised and pleased to see Inias take a step forward and give him a warm flash of fondness. "I believe you, brother."

"Me too," another angel beside him, Remiel joined him.

One by one more members of the garrison voiced their loyalty until finally every single one of them except Hester had agreed to join him. All eyes lay on her blonde vessel as she lifted her gaze to contemplate Castiel.

As she looked into his eyes, he noticed that despite some remnants of unease and worry, the doubt had mostly vanished from her expression. Then she nodded.

"I'll fight with you," she declared quietly and Castiel believed her.

Looking around at the most loyal in his garrison who were now all gazing up to him rather than trapping him in their middle, the angel thought that this was the first time since Raphael had left him beaten and bloodied on his favorite field of heaven that he no longer felt alone.


	9. Chapter 8

**Holy crap, this chapter turned out long! I actually didn't plan for all of this, but while writing I suddenly felt that there were a few essential details I couldn't just leave out without making the story seem unrealistic, you'll see what I mean... Hope you all enjoy the continued angel-human bantering between these two ;D Enjoy!**

**Thank you to Heaven's Eagle for getting around to betaing this even though she is really busy... Love you bunches, girl :P**

* * *

There were only three possible ways to wake Dean Winchester from a deep sleep.

One was to disturb him so deeply with horrendous nightmares that he would eventually jolt awake in horror. Another was if his pain-in-the-ass brother would keep nagging and pushing him with a stubbornness that only the younger Winchester could maintain, until he had no choice but to drag himself out of bed, grumbling and swearing. And the third was nothing else than a startled shriek or a shocked scream, informing him immediately that a loved one could possibly be in danger.

Such a scream was what woke him on this balmy autumn night in Lisa's bedroom. With reflexes sharp as razors after all of his years of training, Dean found himself shoving his hand beneath his pillow and pulling out his gun while jolting up to a sitting position, resting his finger dangerously on the trigger all before the thought had even fully formed in his sleep-clouded mind.

He felt Lisa breathe heavily in shock next to him, yet he couldn't make out any immediate danger in the darkness around them.

"Dean"- Lisa gasped.

"What is it?" Dean asked, still reluctant to put his gun back down. "What happened?"

"A-a man!" Lisa stammered, sounding evidently freaked out. "A man was standing there, just now!"

Dean flinched when she switched on the light on her nightstand, but was at least relieved to see that there was indeed nothing bloodthirsty there waiting to pounce on them.

"H-he…" Lisa shivered, clearly confused. "He was watching us…"

"Where?" Dean asked calmly, lowering his gun back down to his knees.

"There!" Lisa pointed over to the closet, her outstretched hand trembling. "I, I swear he was there, I looked up and I saw him watching and, and…"

"Hey, easy," Dean soothed putting his hand on hers. "What did he look like?"

"I…" With every passing second Lisa seemed to be less sure of herself. "I'm not sure, I didn't see…"

Dean looked around the room and strained his ears to listen for any sounds in the house, but everything was quiet. Perhaps she had been imagining things?

"I think he was wearing a trench coat…" Lisa murmured uncertainly.

Dean gaped at her for a moment, his bleary mind working a bit slower than usual until understanding finally sunk in. The fucking idiot! What had he been thinking, just appearing in their bedroom and giving the poor woman a heart attack?

"You think I'm crazy," Lisa murmured at his dumbfounded expression.

"Lis, come on!" Dean instantly responded. "Do you really think I'd be the type of guy to label you crazy?"

Lisa chuckled. "Right, yeah, maybe not."

Dean gazed around the room once more, just to be sure, while straining to hear if there were sounds coming from downstairs.

"I don't hear anything…" he said uncertainly. "You want me to go and check or…?"

"No, no, I guess it was probably just a nightmare…" she murmured, her brow furrowing in a confused frown. "One hell of a weird nightmare, I'll add."

Dean gave her a small smile, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and squeezing her slightly. "Yeah, I know the feeling." Lisa smiled back and briefly leaned her head on his shoulder, sighing tiredly.

"Sorry, I woke you," she murmured. "We should probably go back to sleep…"

"Yeah," Dean agreed while she moved to settle back down on her pillow. "I'm gonna go grab a drink real quick, ok? I'll be right up, just sleep…"

Lisa's affirmative response was half-stifled by a tired yawn as she nestled back into the covers. Dean quickly left the room and headed for the stairs, careful not to make too much noise so he wouldn't wake Ben.

He descended the stairs and hurried into the living room, all the while turning around himself to canvas his surroundings, although he wasn't really sure what he was looking for.

"Cas?" he whispered unsurely, though annoyance was already making its way into his voice.

"Hello, Dean," came the quiet response moments later.

Dean whipped around to see the dark-haired angel standing on the other side of the room, illuminated only by the moonlight coming through the windows and therefore casting dark shadows in the already gloomy room.

"Cas!" Dean exclaimed, though never raising his voice above an angry whisper. "What the fuck was that? The hell did you appear in our bedroom for?"

"I needed to talk to you," Castiel responded, his face showing no sign whatsoever of any bashfulness about the intimate setting he had chosen to appear in.

"Yeah, that's great!" Dean said sarcastically. "You couldn't have figured out any other way to do that?"

Castiel sighed in frustration, turning his head to the side. "I didn't see the need for it, Dean, this"-

"Didn't see the need for it? God, you frickin' angels man, you scared Lisa to death!" Dean growled. He was finding it hard to not let his voice rise above whispering level. "You couldn't have just appeared in my dream or something? You guys do that, don't you?"

"Too dangerous, someone could be listening," Cas said curtly. "Dean, I"-

"Well, what about"-

"Dean!" Castiel hissed, shutting the hunter up with a sudden authoritative voice. "This is urgent!"

Dean stared at him for a moment, trying to read the angel's uneasy expression.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I…" Cas hesitated for a short moment, looking right and left as if to assure himself that they were completely alone before stepping closer to him. "I learned something that might help us."

Dean blinked in surprise; he had not been expecting that at all. For a moment he didn't exactly know how to react, because he had honestly been preparing himself for more bad news and now that he had a chance at positive he wasn't sure if he should trust it. Positive seldom happened to him. Scratch that, positive almost _never_ happened to him.

"What?" he whispered.

"Something that might help us stop Raphael," Cas responded and Dean instantly noticed the level of excitement that shone in his eyes. It seemed to be the first time in a long while that the angel had snapped out of his defeated state and actually had _hope_ for something. Dean wished he could do the same.

"Great, which would be?" Dean kept on pressing, still skeptical. He was not gonna get his hopes up until he was sure this was something solid. Not another Crowley-type deal or anything.

"Some weapons have disappeared from heaven," he explained. "Powerful weapons, Dean."

"Weapons?" the hunter repeated, frowning at his friend. "You guys have weapons now?"

"Yes," Castiel nodded.

Great. Like all those fucking superpowers weren't enough!

"Ok," Dean carried on. "And you think those are strong enough to knock our teenage mutant ninja angel down a few notches?"

Cas canted his head slightly sideways, immediately giving the impression that he had no idea what Dean had just said. "They are very powerful, yes," he then decided. "They may give us an advantage."

"Emphasis on _may_," Dean snorted.

When Castiel didn't respond, the hunter sighed loudly before speaking again. "Ok, so how do we find them?"

"I've been searching for a few days now," Cas said. "And I believe I'm close to locating one!"

"Oh," Dean responded, trying not to seem too taken aback at the fact that Cas hadn't even informed him before he started searching. "Ok, so what do you need me for, then?"

Castiel hesitated again, suddenly looking awfully guilt-stricken. Dean noticed with a hint at amusement that he was biting his lower lip, as if he was feeling conflicted about something. He always found it hilarious how hopelessly childlike the angel seemed when adapting to human mannerisms.

"I need your help," Castiel whispered finally, though the words were spoken somewhat reluctant. "This might involve… talking to people." He shifted uneasily on the spot. "I believe we both agree that this is not a strength of mine."

Dean chuckled darkly. "No, absolutely not!"

Cas looked at him with pleading, blue eyes. "Will you come with me?"

"Huh?" Dean stared at him for a moment, feeling dumbfounded. "What, like _now_? You want me to just take off in the middle of the night?"

"There is no time to lose," the angel insisted. "The longer we wait, the sooner someone else will find out, the sooner Raphael's angels will be led to the weapon and then we'll have no chance at all"-

"Ok, all right, all right, I get it!" Dean grumbled reluctantly. He silently stood on the spot for a moment, staring intently at the ground before finally letting out a grunt of frustration. "Fuck, ok!"

"All right," Castiel agreed and started moving forward, bringing two of his fingers up before him.

"Whoa, whoa, hey, no zapping!" Dean immediately protested. "You know I hate that shit!"

Cas let out an exasperated sigh. "Dean, we don't have time for"-

"Hey, you dragged me out of bed in the middle of the night!" Dean defended his point grimly. "I'm coming with you, I make the rules!"

Castiel let his hand fall to his side in defeat, though rolling his eyes in the process. Another human gesture that now suddenly seemed so normal for him. Dean lifted his finger to once more prove his point.

"No zapping!" he ordered.

. . .

The Impala's engine purred in satisfaction, as Dean pushed her down the dark and lonely highway. It was the second time this week that he had freed her from her permanent lockdown space in Lisa's garage and after how it had went the first time, he wasn't so sure if this was really a good idea.

However if he was going hunting, he needed to do it right. Only his baby was right for hunting and he knew that she had missed it; that they both had missed it. Already there was something distinctly familiar about the way he was cruising the streets in his awesome car, on his way to a hunt, even if there was a different person riding shotgun then he was used to. Maybe it was just his imagination, but he thought he noticed that Cas felt more comfortable in the Impala too then he had been the few times he had sat in Lisa's car. It was a more familiar surrounding to both of them.

"So let me get this straight," Dean said, trying to understand what Cas had just explained to him. "You're saying that your nukes are loose?"

"Yeah, I'm afraid so," Castiel responded sadly.

"How could that even happen?" Dean wanted to know. "I mean, don't you guys put away your toys?"

"I don't know." The angel sighed and he sounded so unbelievably _tired_. "This is… new to us as well. Before the apocalypse, heaven may have been corrupt, but it was always stable. The weapons were safely contained. But it's been… chaos up there since the war ended." His voice sounded so grave that Dean immediately felt a pang of guilt for pushing so harshly. He could just never keep his big mouth shut. "Raphael is obviously trying to restore order, but… in that confusion a number of powerful weapons were… stolen."

"Stolen?" Dean frowned. "So wait, you think another angel got his hands on them? Or could anyone else have gotten into the Halo ranks?"

"Yes, it is most likely another angel… Though I don't know who," Cas responded, his furrowed brow giving the impression that his lack of knowledge bugged him. "Apart from me, hardly any of my brothers would go so openly against heaven…"

He hesitated for a moment, evidently still trying to figure out the unusual angel's identity. "Maybe whoever it is will help us."

"Hm," Dean grunted, making it clear that he wasn't sharing Cas' optimism. "Or you know, he's just in it for himself… Taking the goodies and running."

Castiel's bewildered and disapproving gaze made the hunter's chuckle die in his throat. It was so weird, Dean thought, that on one side Cas kept preaching for free will but on the other hand still was as weirded out by the concept of an angel being selfish as the rest of them were. Walking contradictions, all of them.

Well, he was one to talk.

"So how do you even know about all this?" Dean decided to change the subject. "I mean, not like you can just poke your head through the gates and see what's going on up there, right?"

Cas seemed to be relieved to be able to talk about something else and not have to suss out his own doubts. "Rachel," he anwered. "My lieutenant. She is informing me about heaven's objectives."

"Wow, lieutenant." So Cas wasn't alone in this anymore, he now had help on the inside. Dean briefly frowned, wondering what else was new that the angel hadn't told him about yet. "You sure you can trust her?"

"With my life," Castiel immediately responded. "She is the most loyal creature I could wish for." Despite his adamant words, the hunter thought he recognized an uncomfortable undertone to the angel's voice.

"So she's on your side now?" Dean asked.

"Yes, along with a part of my old garrison," Castiel explained. "And we hope to convince more of our cause… If we can achieve some form of advantage, then we might even have a chance."

And with those words Dean suddenly understood why the angel was no longer as crestfallen as he had been in their last few encounters. Up until then he had been alone, hunted and running, with no idea whatsoever what to do, but now for the first time he had gotten some support from his fellow feather-buddies and had somewhat of a strategy in sight. Who would've thought, but it seemed as if a plan C was actually starting to form.

The fact that this seemed to give Cas more hope served to lighten his mood too, the hunter soon realized. Ever since his near breakdown a few days ago he had felt himself constantly being on the edge, every single moment. He had managed to pull himself together and be something he was hoping resembled cheerful for Lisa and Ben, but in the moments that he was alone it took all his efforts to not return to that same place he had been that night with his baby and he was finding it very exhausting to keep that up. All the more reason to get on this lead right now.

"Ok, and you said you found one of these weapons already," Dean tried to remember what Cas had told him at the house. "What is it?"

"I believe it may be the staff of Moses," Castiel responded matter-of-factly.

Dean stared at him from the side, as much as was possible while still keeping the car under control. "Seriously?"

"Yes, it was used in a dominance display against the Egyptians, as I recall," the angel proceeded to explain, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Sometimes Dean forgot how fucking _old_ Cas was.

"Yeah," Dean scoffed. "That one made the papers."

It was only a few hours drive from Lisa's place to the town where Castiel presumed the heavenly weapon to be. The two of them arrived there still in the middle of the night, so the town was mostly quiet with only few lights still on in the various buildings. It was a hell of a weird time to start out on a case, but Dean figured the quicker he got this behind him the better. The longer he was gone, the harder it would be to explain this whole thing to Lisa.

Soon after they had entered the town Dean turned to the angel. "All right, what's our lead?" he asked. "Why do you think Chuck Heston's disco stick is here?"

"A man was killed by Locusts," Castiel explained. "I heard a rumor during my search and came by to confirm it."

"Yeah, that does sound weird…" Dean agreed, automatically picturing the image before him. "But you're sure that it's the stick and not some bug thing? Cause trust me, bugs, they can get pretty nasty too."

"Well, when I examined the body there was more to it than just that," Cas remarked thoughtfully.

Dean nodded, directing his baby to the center of town to find the police station and the morgue. "All right, then," he said. "Let's have a look at the body."

Castiel seemed confused. "Why? I told you, I have already examined it."

"Ah, come on, Cas!" Dean sighed in annoyance. "You want my help we're gonna have to do it my way, ok? I need to get a feel for the case, man!"

The angel seemed frustrated at the additional loss of time, but leaned back in his seat and said nothing further.

It took Dean about ten minutes to locate the police station, during which the silence in the car hovered on. The hunter had a feeling that Castiel was a bit pissed over having to move so slowly with him, but what the hell was he supposed to do? He was only human.

Having parked his baby next to the station Dean stepped out onto the sidewalk and waited for the sour angel to join him. He didn't have his usual FBI-suit at his disposal but he figured that made no difference since there was no one awake to fool anyway. His street clothes would work just fine for breaking and entering.

When Castiel had finally joined him on the sidewalk, Dean started walking toward the entrance and rummaged around in his pocked.

"Ok, let me just get my lock-pick"-

He was cut off by the insanely short sensation of being whipped through the air at 500 miles per hour and suddenly found himself standing in the dark interior of a morgue.

"What the"-

Cas casually lifted his hand off of the hunter's shoulder and stepped past him toward the big wall of drawers.

"Son of a bitch, man, what the hell was that?" Dean instantly growled. "I said no zapping!"

"Our agreement was only for the journey," Castiel remarked indifferently, standing still for a moment to study the various drawers. "Besides, this is faster and more practical. Leaves no signs of a break-in…"

"That's…" Dean angrily lifted his finger to retort something. "That's – ok, that's true, but – you could've at least asked!"

Castiel ignored Dean's ambivalent ranting and decided on a drawer, pulling it out with one swift movement of his arm. "This is him."

Dean stopped talking at once, all anger at the angel forgotten once he looked upon the hideous and blemished corpse. "Whoa, what the…" He moved closer to inspect the man's body more carefully, but it was difficult to make out single details among everything that was just _wrong_.

It was hard to see the guy's face beneath the thick layer of huge boils that covered him everywhere, some of them already cracked, some dangerously yellow. There were gruesome holes scattered across several parts of his body, all looking like something had chewed its way out of the man from the inside. His matted hair was soaked in blood and his features were largely distorted. Beside all that, his whole body seemed to have a somewhat… _jelly_-like quality – Dean couldn't decide on a better word – as if he was dissolving slowly into the blood that was pooling around him on the long silver plain.

"Ew," was the first word the hunter decided on. He had seen some pretty icky stuff in his time, so he wasn't grossed out easily, but _this_… This was just all manner of wrong.

"He did not look like this last time," Castiel remarked, frowning slightly.

"What, you mean he was less of a pudding last time?" Dean asked dryly, moving around the body carefully as if any sudden movement could bring it to cave in.

"He was… more solid," Castiel said uncertainly, probing the dead man with his finger. "It appears that his form is slowly decaying." Without any warning for Dean, the angel lifted his bloody finger up to his mouth and placed it against his tongue.

Dean let out a noise of displeasure. "God, Cas, would you not frickin'_ taste_ the dead guy, please?" he exclaimed in disgust, trying to wipe the image from his mind.

Cas frowned again, looking at his now clean finger as if he were contemplating the taste or something. It was all Dean could do not to gag.

"It's worse than I thought," Castiel then said.

"Ya think?" Dean snorted.

"He is dissolving…" Cas murmured, ignoring Dean's comment. "By the looks of it into his own blood. This was more than just locusts."

"What, more than one plague you mean?" the hunter asked, confusion slowly substituting disgust on his face.

"Yes, I believe so," Castiel responded, letting his hands hover slightly over the various distortions on the man's body. "Boils… Wounds from locusts" – he loosely waved toward one of the holes –"and blood."

"Wow," Dean chuckled humorlessly. "I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say someone really didn't like this guy."

Cas didn't respond, apparently still studying the different trademarks on the corpse.

"But wait, why is just one dude here turning into blood?" it suddenly occurred to Dean. "I mean, in the story, isn't it like a whole river?"

Castiel nodded in agreement, stepping back from the body and meeting the hunter's eyes. "The weapon isn't being used at full capacity," he said. "I think we can rule Moses out as a suspect."

The words were spoken in such earnest that Dean gaped at the angel for a full minute before having to stifle his laughter. It was hard not to break out laughing over how completely serious Cas was being and how ridiculous his words sounded. But knowing that this would probably hurt the guy's feelings, Dean suppressed his urges as best he could.

"O-ok… So we've got three plagues on the same guy. Whoever did this, I can tell you they were extremely pissed," he then said.

"Yes, but… how do we find out who it was?" Cas wanted to know.

The computers at the police station were located fairly quickly. Dean thought that they were easy enough to handle, though he did have a few issues with the password safety for the servers.

"Damn it," he swore under his breath. "Sammy was always so good at this shit!"

_Don't go there._

"Is this gonna take very long?" Castiel asked, waiting impatiently on the side. With a sigh of annoyance and a very irritated glance at the angel, Dean got back to work.

It really was a bitch that he had always let Sammy handle the computer work. At the time it had made sense, each of them taking over the part that they did best – and in his case mostly letting Sammy do the work while he leaned back. But he now wished that he had more practice, it would've gone a hell of a lot faster to break into the system.

After a while though the little experience that he had paid off and he managed to get on the police server.

"All right," he said with a victorious grin. "Told you it would work!"

He paid no attention to Cas' sigh (having the same effect as if he'd actually used the word _finally_) and worked himself through to the open case files. "Let's see who this guy is, shall we?"

The angel stepped over from the side and looked at the screen over his shoulder. "Here he is," Dean murmured. "Kevin Hayes. Wow. Dude doesn't look too bad without all the…" He waved his finger loosely across his face to indicate all the marks on the body.

"Are there any suspects?" Cas wanted to know.

Dean briefly scrolled through the file. "Um… doesn't really look like they know what's going on… Nope." Going through the victim's rap sheet however, he spotted some more information. "Whoa, looks like this dude had quite a record… Assault, theft, restraining orders…"

Castiel took another step forward to lean down to the monitor next to him. "Do you think someone wanted revenge?"

"Could be," Dean nodded. "Most recent charges filed were… by this girl here. Monica Saunders." He quickly went over the entry to see if there was any more information. "Doesn't say what happened, but… Oh. She withdrew the charges…"

He turned his head to the side to give Cas a triumphant smile, "…one day before he died."

The angel frowned in confusion. "I don't understand," he said, evidently unsure of what to make of the information.

"Come on, man, it's like she knew what was gonna happen!" Dean insisted confidently. "That or she's the one who did it. Either way… Think we need to have a talk with Miss Saunders here."

Castiel nodded in silent agreement, endorsing Dean's logic. "Does it say where she lives?"

"Uh…" Dean went back to looking at the file. "Yeah, address is 21 Elm's Street"-

Before he could protest, he again felt the firm grip of Cas' hand on his shoulder, the millisecond of momentum and then he was standing inside a dark room, his eyes too confused by the darkness to recognize any further details.

"Cas!" he exclaimed after a roar of frustration. "God, would you quit doing that?"

"Dean, I suggest you lower your voice," Castiel murmured, ignoring Dean's anger once again.

"Why, wh"-

Dean looked around at the room they were in, feeling his eyes slowly getting used to the darkness. "What the hell?"

The first thing he spotted was the silhouette of the couch, along with the TV at the other end of the room and the coffee table beside them. "Her living room?" He instantly tried to lower his voice, though it wasn't easily done feeling as dumbstruck as he did. "You zapped us into her fucking house?"

"We need to move fast, Dean," Cas said sternly.

Dean stared at him for a moment before throwing his arms up in frustration. "Her living room! That is _not_ cool, Cas!"

Before the angel had a chance to respond, they were both silenced by a clattering noise from a room to their left. _Crap_, Dean instantly thought. So much for lowering their voices. The girl was probably already up and suspected a break-in.

He quickly moved toward the door, his ears straining to make out any other sounds. Castiel was silent as a grave behind him, his blue eyes focused intently on the entrance to the room. A few more cautious steps and Dean thought he could make out the faintest hints of rapid breathing, an awful indicator for the fear they were probably inducing.

When he was but one step away from the door, the hunter started to reach out to cautiously push it open, but before he could do so, there was a sudden bang, a flash of dark long hair and a big, heavy clump of something raised up into the air. Dean instinctively ducked and only barely avoided being stricken to the ground by the terrified woman, raising his hands in the process.

"Whoa, whoa, hey!" he yelled, instantly jumping back a few steps.

"Who the hell are you?" the woman screamed, her voice ringing simultaneously from anger and fear. "What are you doing in my apartment?" She was holding an empty vase above her head, holding it at the ready to lash out again should he come too close. Her dark hair was tousled from sleep and she was dressed in only a tank top and a pair of comfortable shorts.

_Great fucking job, Cas_, Dean thought angrily to himself, trying to figure out a way to diffuse the situation.

"It's not what it looks like!" Dean tried to explain, knowing how ridiculous those particular words sounded.

"I'm not afraid to use this!" the girl nodded toward the vase she was still holding. "Get out right now or I'm calling the police!"

"I am the police," Dean instantly said, producing his fake badge from his pocket and holding it up. "FBI."

The girl stared at him for a moment, but made no move to back down. "I don't care who the fuck you are, you can't just waltz in here in the middle of the night!" Dean noticed that her voice was trembling and he felt so horribly guilty for having scared her so much. But that was of course only if she wasn't responsible for the frickin' staff-death.

"Monica – it's Monica, right? Calm down, we just wanna talk to you," he said in a stern, yet comforting voice, trying to achieve his best Sammy-imitation of big, compassionate eyes.

"And what the hell is so important that it couldn't wait 'til morning?" the girl hissed, her expression still hostile, but her posture slightly more relaxed.

Before Dean had a chance to speak, he heard Castiel's gruff voice behind him. "The staff of Moses."

The woman, Monica Saunders stared at him for a few seconds as if debating whether or not he was crazy. "What?"

Dean turned around to give the angel an irritated look, his eyes expressing what he was thinking. _Real fucking smooth_! Cas brows furrowed in confusion as if he couldn't tell what he had just done wrong. This was the reason he had brought Dean along after all, because he sucked at talking.

"Nothing," Dean said, turning back to Monica. "No big deal, we just need to ask you a few questions about Kevin Hayes."

The change on the girl's face was drastic. Her eyes instantly narrowed, an eerie darkness creeping into them while her whole body tensed, her posture again turning defensive. Her face closed off into a cold expression, though her lips trembled slightly and beneath all the raw dislike there was one other emotion shining distinctly from her gaze: fear. All this lead Dean to believe that she undoubtedly had something to do with this.

"What about him?" she asked, trying to hide the unsteadiness in her voice as she put the vase down onto a shelf next to her.

"You know he's dead, right?" Dean started out cautiously. "Sudden, freaky death?"

Monica shrugged, pretending to be indifferent. "Yeah, so?"

"So… we know you filed charges against him," he went on, watching her closely for any kind of reaction.

To his surprise this triggered an exasperated sigh from the woman. "Yeah, sure, now that he's dead everyone _suddenly_ cares about that!" she exclaimed angrily. "I answered all this shit for the police already, now I have to go through it again?"

"Well, see, what I find interesting… is that you withdrew the charges a day before he was wasted," Dean said dangerously. "Doesn't that strike you as weird?"

She stared at him, seeming completely dumbfounded. "What, you're saying I had something to do with this?" she asked in disbelief.

"Oh, I know you did," Dean responded harshly. He could almost feel Cas staring daggers at the woman from behind him. She opened her mouth to answer him, but he cut her off. "Monica, I saw what he looked like. His face… _really_ brings out the freaky in my job description. So I know you must've been really pissed at him. What did he do to you?"

She continued staring at him, as if contemplating her answer. "You're crazy!" she finally hissed. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

Dean looked in her eyes for just a moment before softly shaking his head. "You're lying." She suddenly looked so unbelievably vulnerable. "What did he do?"

Monica looked at him through big, brown eyes before dropping her head to look down at her feet, clasping her arms around her upper body as a makeshift protection.

After a few minutes of silence, she finally looked up at the hunter again and her voice was nothing more than a broken whisper. "He raped me, ok?"

All Dean could do for a long moment was stare at her, words failing to come to his mind. She looked so unbelievably hurt and young in that moment that he wanted nothing more than to punch the fucking asshole in the face, jelly-texture or not. "Son of a bitch," he murmured.

Monica shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. "I… I was walking home and… I-I knew him from the store I work at, he'd always come in and… watch me," she shook her head slightly, as if trying to get rid of the images. "I tried to press charges, but the cops just… I don't know. They don't like cases that are hard to prove."

"I'm sorry," was all Dean could say.

"But you did do something…" Cas said slowly, joining the conversation at Dean's side. "You took your revenge."

Monica seemed incredibly disturbed at the word, for she looked up at the angel in fear. "I-I…" her voice seemed only moments away from tears. "I didn't mean to… I was just, I felt so alone and so… he told me he could help."

"He?" Dean asked, now returning to the task at hand, finding the guy who had given her the weapon.

"I was just walking through the park and he… this guy came up to me and… and he just knew. It freaked me out, I wanted to run, but h-he…" Monica's voice started shaking more and more the further along she got with her story. "He told me I could have justice, that I could make him pay myself. I thought he was crazy at first, but the things he said…"

"And he gave you the weapon?" Castiel wanted to know.

Monica nodded numbly. "Yes," she whispered. "I came home and I threw it away, because I… I thought I was going insane, I knew I was insane cause who believes something like that?" She chuckled humorlessly as a single tear softly ran down her cheek. "But then I… I had another nightmare and I was so scared and so angry that I just- I just…"

Dean and Cas shared a silent gaze while she clamped a hand in front of her mouth to stop herself from sobbing. "I swear," she begged them. "I had no idea it was gonna work!"

"And that's when you withdrew the charges?" Dean asked quietly, not wanting to do anything more to freak her out.

She nodded silently.

"It's not your fault," Dean murmured softly. He had no idea where this sudden need to comfort her had come from, he just knew he needed to do it. "The dick definitely deserved it."

She looked at him curiously and he wasn't sure if she had believed him or not.

"Do you still have the staff?" Castiel asked urgently. Monica wordlessly pointed over to the other end of the room where there was a trashcan in the corner. Evidently too impatient to act human after their slow journey Cas zapped himself across the room, producing a shocked gasp from the girl in the process.

Dean quickly tried to think of something to say to not have her freak out, but before something came to mind Castiel was at his side again, holding a small stick in his hands.

"This is the staff of Moses?" Dean asked, incredulity sitting sharply in his voice.

"Just a piece of it," Cas responded. "It seemed whoever did this broke up the original staff into several small pieces."

"He broke up the staff?" Dean repeated. "Can he do that?"

Castiel shrugged. "More pieces more product. It gives him more to sell."

At the word _sell_ Dean was instantly reminded of another issue still left unsolved. He turned back to the startled girl, who was still watching the angel closely, as if she was expecting him to repeat his little stunt at any given time.

"Monica… what did the guy want for the stick?"

Monica blinked in surprise. "What?"

"Come on," Dean urged her. "He didn't just give you the stick."

"No," the woman shook her head. "He sold it to me."

Dean frowned in confusion. "Sold it?" he wondered. "Like money? What did you give him?"

Monica stared at the ground again, too ashamed to meet his eyes. "My soul."

The hunter felt a cold shiver run down his spine at the word, being as familiar with the situation as he was. It was also very surprising though, cause since when did angels want souls? Demons sure, Crowley even wanted a butt load like Purgatory to build up his power machine, but angels? Maybe it was that same thing Cas had mentioned when they had talked about the deal with Crowley. The power that a human soul held.

Dean turned questioning eyes toward the angel. "You ever heard of an angel rounding up souls?"

"Not until now," Castiel murmured, brow furrowed in deep thought. "But it is possible. Especially with all the chaos that broke out in heaven."

"Angels? Heaven?" Monica repeated their words, looking at them as if they had gone completely nuts. "Who the hell are you people?" She stared at Dean accusingly. "You're not FBI, are you?"

Dean looked at her for a moment, contemplating on whether he should lie to her or not. She had already been through enough, but then again, what would it help him if he dwelled on this matter? He didn't have the time right now.

"Monica, do you remember where you met this guy?" he asked her.

"Uh…" Her gaze was still wary and he knew that she didn't trust him. "Up in the park… near the South mansion."

"You're sure?" Cas wanted to know.

Monica shot him a murderous glare. "Yes, of course I'm sure! I've seen him talking to other people there too. I just… I didn't think anything by it, I mean who believes that crap?"

She looked so helpless that Dean instantly felt sorry for her again, especially since there was nothing more that he could do. Well, maybe he could at least try to get the poor girl's soul back.

"I know," Dean said softly. "It's not your fault."

Monica looked like she still wanted to say something, but the words would not cross her lips.

"I'm sorry," Cas murmured, sounding a bit less strict than his usual self.

Before either of them could say anything else, Dean again felt the grip on his shoulder, the flash of momentum and he knew that the angel had zapped them once more, leaving the upset and trembling young woman alone in her apartment.


	10. Chapter 9

**A familiar face returns, yayy!**

**My beta is apparently very busy at the moment, so this has not yet been looked at... Sorry if there are any errors :)**

**As always hope you enjoy and reviews are very much appreciated, thank you so much! :D**

* * *

"I knew you were gonna do that," were the first words to cross Dean's lips after the two of them arrived before a large mansion, illuminated only by a few of its still burning lights in the darkness.

Castiel sighed inwardly, not understanding the hunter's frustration with this more practical way of moving. He thought that it was more than a benefit to them, especially after he had been forced to endure that horribly long car ride, feeling like he was trapped in a metal box that just seemed to get _nowhere_.

He did not understand how humans managed to live this way, how they could spend their lives knowing how much time they wasted with things so simple and mundane as travelling. But then again some of his brothers would probably never understand why he would ever agree to travel at the means of a human, so maybe he was just as strange.

"Huh," Dean said, looking at the giant mansion that lay before them. "I was expecting more Dr. No, less… Liberace."

References, always references that he didn't understand. What a peculiar thing the human was.

The two of them slowly started to advance toward the mansion, neither of them really knowing what to expect. It was a huge building, so whomever they were looking for could be anywhere. Castiel of course soon became aware of an angelic presence that he couldn't quite place, but when Dean suggested that they split up, he chose not to inform the hunter about it and agreed.

As grateful as he was that Dean had helped him to get here and find his thieving brother, he still felt that the confrontation was something he needed to do alone. It was his kin after all, his family that was on the verge of war and his resistance that needed all the help they could get. Dean had never really understood the complex ways in which heaven worked.

Once he was sure that the hunter was headed in an entirely different direction, the angel cautiously made his way into the building and the direction where he felt the familiar grace was originating from. The closer he got, the more confused he became, for he did not recognize the grace as any that he had felt in a while. There was music coming from the same direction, he noticed in slight astonishment; the source being somewhere on the second floor.

His wings swiftly carried him up the distance and he settled just outside the entrance of the room, taking in the flashing bright lights and the rhythmic music with increasing furrowing of his brow.

He noticed that the surges of grace he was receiving were guarded – almost as if his brother knew he was coming and was shielding his identity as best he could. Castiel found himself becoming more and more suspicious at that, for the presence seemed so unbelievably familiar to him. It was an angel that, he realized he had once been very close to, someone with whom he had shared a more special bond than with several of his other siblings…

But that couldn't be. That was not possible. It couldn't be _him_.

He was dead.

Castiel stepped into the large room with all of his senses prepared and highly alert for any kind of danger that might be waiting. The dancing lights did not serve to confuse him for a moment, for he knew exactly what he was searching for, his own grace reaching to touch the opposite one, hoping to pin it down in an exact confrontation.

The door behind him seemed to close of its own accord and this only served to heighten his suspicion, the silver angelic blade sliding almost automatically into his readied palm.

But with a sudden flash of awareness, the familiar grace washed over him wholly, effectively ending their game of hide and seek and making any doubts to who it was impossible. He knew who it was. He had known from the start.

"Cas," his brother's bright and cheerful voice sounded over to him, his vessel's British accent ever so prominent. "You're here."

Castiel warily turned around, having a surprisingly hard time believing the sight before him.

"Balthazar?" he asked with a soft hint at incredulity.

The angel smiled mischievously, swaying the glass of scotch he was holding in a playful manner before extending his arms in a saluting gesture. "It's so good to see you."

Castiel stared at his believed-to-be dead brother, needing a moment to compose himself, for he was currently feeling more emotion pass through him than the average angel was supposed to. Mostly because a bond as close as he had shared with Balthazar seldom existed within their ranks, few of his brothers had ever meant this much to him. He had gone through a horrible fit of grief when he had learned of his brother's death during the war and had had to force himself to work through it all as fast as possible as to not arouse suspicion of compromise toward his superiors.

And now that same brother stood before him, apparently alive and well and smiling as if the whole world would bow to his wishes. It was almost too much for the shocked angel to grasp.

"What… How are you…?" Castiel heard his own voice murmuring, but he could not feel the words passing his vessel's lips.

Balthazar shook his head with a smirk. "A good magician never reveals his tricks," he chuckled.

Castiel cocked his head to the side in confusion. "What does that mean?"

The relaxed angel casually waved his hand as if to dismiss the issue. "Never mind, it's not important," he said. "I'm glad you're ok, seeing with all the" – he waved his hand once more, indicating a chaotic cycle – "you know."

Castiel continued staring at him for a moment, not knowing what to say. "I grieved your death," he then said and it sounded almost like an accusation.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry about that…" Balthazar responded, taking a step toward him and again playfully swiveling his glass. "You know, I wanted them to think - you know, so they wouldn't come looking for me…"

Once the initial shock had settled, Castiel somehow noticed himself feeling more irritated with every word out of his brother's mouth. He had believed that he was dead and lost for such a long period of time and yet here he was with his music and his artistically dancing lights as if he were celebrating that fact.

With a single quell of his grace he reached out and shut off the annoying effects, wherever they were coming from, so that the room was at once flooded with light and the perfect stillness he needed to speak. "What… is all this?" he demanded. "What are you doing?"

Balthazar shrugged in good temper. "Whatever I want!" he answered, spreading his arms with glee. "This morning I had a ménage-à – what's French for twelve?"

Ignoring the unknown expression, Castiel shot his brother a disbelieving gaze. "You stole the staff of Moses?" he asked, not quite wanting to come to terms with the fact that one of his favorite brothers was responsible for all this.

"Sure, sure…" Balthazar spoke casually, stepping closer until their faces were only inches apart. "I stole… a lot of things." The words were spoken with an unmistakable hint at self-satisfaction.

Castiel shook his head, not wanting to believe that this smug counterpart was the same angel he had known for ages. "You were a great and honorable soldier," he started, but Balthazar only sighed with disinterest and turned away from him. "We fought together"-

"Yes, too many times to count…" he interrupted, an acknowledging tone lying within his voice.

"I know you!" Castiel insisted, his gaze intently following the casually pacing man. "You're not some common thief."

At that Balthazar turned and met his eyes, his expression almost amused. "Common?" he repeated his brother's statement. "No. Thief?"

He shrugged. "Eh."

Castiel looked upon his brother, unable to believe what he was witnessing. How could this have happened? How in the world could Balthazar have become so careless? He had always been a bit different than all of his other siblings, but never could Castiel have imagined him becoming… _this_. A relaxed, nonchalant and utterly indifferent creature, oblivious to all the harm he was doing.

However, he had to remind himself that this was not the reason he was here. He was here because he was hunted by most of heaven's forces and he was in search of some missing weapons that could bring him a great advantage in this situation. Maybe there was still enough of his old person left in Balthazar that he would agree to help him. He strongly hoped so.

"I need your help." The words were out of Castiel's mouth before he had even considered them. Perhaps he should have thought of a more subtle way to approach the matter, but this was the complete and utter truth. There was no other way to put it.

Balthazar's face instantly softened at that. "I know," he nodded in understanding. "I've been hearing all about you. I know Raphael wants to have your uptight, broomstick-pierced arse dragged his way as quickly as possible" – Castiel actually felt a nervous twinge at the words – "and as far as I'm concerned, you and me, Cas?" The angel smiled amicably, dropping all the jokes for a moment and seeming completely sincere. "Nothing's changed. We're brothers. Of course I wanna help you."

Castiel had seldom felt more relieved and pleasantly surprised in his life. The warm and affectionate surges of grace interwove and connected from both their sides and the tense angel felt himself visibly relax as an enormous amount of gratefulness spread within him.

"Thank you," he said earnestly.

Balthazar smiled in response.

"I need the weapons," Castiel went on, but at those words all understanding was lost from Balthazar's face and he turned away with a frustrated sigh.

"Don't ask that!" he responded in dislike.

In just one moment Castiel felt all his disappointment reappear and he followed his brother with an incredulous expression. "Why take them?" he asked, trying to make sense of Balthazar's actions. "Why run away?"

"Because I could!" Balthazar exclaimed, amusement making its way back onto his face. "Are you kidding me? Like you're one to bloody talk!"

Castiel stared at him, not knowing what to say.

"What?" Balthazar asked, gesturing toward him. "I mean you – you're the one who made it possible! The footsteps I'm following, they're yours." He curled his fist to make his gesture more intent while gazing at his brother in adamant excitement. "What you did… stopping the big plan, the prizefight."

He gave Castiel a thrilled and triumphant smile, everything about him being more than approving, but almost… impressed. Devoted. Awed. Castiel found himself suddenly being reminded of Rachel, even if Balthazar's ideals were completely different there was an extremely similar type of emotion in their voice and eyes when they spoke. It achieved nothing more than making him feel uncomfortable.

"You did more than rebel," he went on. "You tore up the whole script and burned the pages for all of us!"

Balthazar's face was lit up in excitement, but Castiel could not share it. Even if he felt he was doing the right thing, he knew that through this he would be responsible for a civil war between his brethren if it ever got that far. In his eyes, that was not something to be proud of. It would never be.

"It's a new era," his brother murmured, triumphantly taking a swig of his scotch and walking past him to step toward the middle of the room once more. "No rules, no destiny, just…" He turned to took at Castiel with a thrilled expression. "…utter and complete freedom!"

"And this is what you do with it?" Castiel responded angrily, growing tired of his brother's unabashed optimism.

"Hey, screw it right?" Balthazar shrugged indifferently. "I mean, Dad's not coming back… You might as well blow coke and jump on the bed."

Castiel sighed in frustration but didn't know what to say. He didn't like anyone talking about his Father that way, he did not want anyone to think that He had abandoned them. Because He hadn't, He couldn't. The angel had been brought back by his Father himself, this was something he was completely sure of. If that proved anything, it was that He still cared. That He was still… _somewhere_.

"You proved to me we could do anything, so I'm trying… _everything_." Balthazar said, a sly smirk appearing on his face. "What difference does it make?"

This immediately earned him a scornful gaze from his brother. "Of course it makes a difference!" Castiel almost shouted, his anger ringing out at full power. "Raphael wants to restart the apocalypse!"

"I know," Balthazar responded.

"If he succeeds, your so-called freedom will be over! He'll hunt us all down and kill us all, one by one!" Castiel continued his outraged speech. "He'll turn the world into a graveyard! Brother, it doesn't matter how well you hide, you cannot hide from this!"

"Oh, Raphael can try me anytime," Balthazar said, smiling gleefully. "I'm armed."

Castiel could only stare at him, eyes filled with incredulity before sighing in frustration and shaking his head. "Balthazar, please," he lowered his voice, trying to sound less hostile. "I'm asking you for your help. If we can beat Raphael we can end this! Just give me the weapons." He gave his brother a pleading gaze. "Give me the weapons and we may even stand a chance against him!"

"You know, I notice you're saying _we_ quite a lot, does this mean there are more angels you managed to convince of your little suicide mission here?" Balthazar asked sounding genuinely interested.

"Maybe it won't be suicide if you give us the weapons," Castiel insisted, therefore answering the question Balthazar had posed to him. "You can't keep running forever. He will find you."

"Hmm, don't know about that," Balthazar waggled his eyebrows playfully. "As long as you're target number one up there, I doubt I'll be of much interest."

Castiel stared at him disbelievingly, trying to remember how there had been a part in this conversation when he had actually felt _grateful_. It seemed absurd now. "Well, after I'm killed I'm sure the weapons will be his next most important interest," he responded coldly.

To his astonishment this actually seemed to take Balthazar aback, for he suddenly frowned, giving him a stunned look. "Killed?"

"Yes," Castiel nodded, wondering how he had not seen this coming. "You will most likely be killed."

Balthazar rolled his eyes. "Well, I know _that_," he lazily waved it aside. "I meant the part about you!"

"Me?" The angel frowned, feeling more and more confused at Balthazar's strange questions. "Umm… yes, I will be killed."

His brother stared at him for a moment, before letting out an exasperated sigh and shaking his head in annoyance. "It's a good thing you've got your looks, Cassie, otherwise you'd be bloody lost," he said, shooting him a strangely disbelieving gaze at the same time, making Castiel feel like he was missing a piece of vital information. "You – you actually think they're… _just_ going to kill you?"

Castiel's frown slowly disappeared from his face, as he suddenly understood what Balthazar was talking about. Yes, he had been considering this fact a few times himself. "No, I don't," he said quietly. "I know they're not going to… _just_ kill me and be done with it. I, uh, I rebelled too strongly for that."

He became lost in thought for a moment, his mind drifting to Lucifer of all places. The first and only angel to ever question the will of God and the objective of heaven before him. Death had not been a punishment considered strong enough, he had received something far worse. He could only speculate what awaited him for his betrayal.

Human literature and legend reserved the deepest circle of hell to betrayers. They did not know how right they were.

"They will want to make an example of me," Castiel murmured. "Destroy me publicly. Make sure no one will ever dare something like this ever again."

He stared gloomily at the ground for a moment, silence surrounding both him and Balthazar.

"Um…" Balthazar then said, to Castiel's surprise still sounding stunned. "You're still thick as hell, mate."

Castiel frowned, forgetting his bleak thoughts about the most probable punishment and looking at his brother again. "What?"

"You really don't know what they want?" he asked.

Castiel merely looked at him in confusion, now feeling completely dumbfounded. How was Balthazar supposed to know what Raphael wanted anyway? What was he missing?

"Cas, Raphael doesn't intend to kill you," Balthazar said quietly. "Well, not yet anyway."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Castiel demanded.

"Don't you get it?" Balthazar went on. "Why do you think they were so bloody desperate for you to kneel? Why didn't they just kill you from the start for rebelling in the first place? Send a much more powerful message with it, they would have… I mean, no second chances for disobeying. No forgiveness whatsoever. But they didn't… now why is that?"

The creases on Castiel's forehead deepened and he took a step closer toward his brother, the gloom of the situation slowly dawning on him. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Because they need you!" he exclaimed, his voice mixing a strange combination of fascination and discontent. "Think about it, Cas. Raphy wants to suddenly jumpstart an apocalypse that - last time I checked – took sixty-six seals to get started. How is he going to do that? How is he going to open the cage to let our dear prizefighters out?"

"I don't understand," Castiel murmured uncertainly.

Balthazar chuckled and shook his head in grim amusement. "It's quite simple, Cas. You laid siege to hell for forty years! No other angel in history, except for old Lucy has ever spent that amount of time down below… Forty years of fighting and digging and searching for your hero." He showed a small smile and yet the motion held none of the smugness or excitement of before. "No one knows hell better than you."

"But I don't know anything about the cage!" Castiel responded, trying to make sense of these new circumstances that Balthazar was bringing to him.

His brother shrugged. "Doesn't really matter. You're still the one who knows the surroundings best. If Crowley's forces manage to keep them out… then you're the only one who can bring them in. That's why they wanted you to resubmit and that's why they will stop at nothing to get it from you now."

Castiel let his gaze drop to the ground and tried to process all of this. He had never even thought of all the estimations Balthazar was making, but now that he considered them… they made such a horrible amount of sense. Everything about him, about his being, his grace, still felt so incredibly _wrong_ whenever he remembered hell. All those fruitless years he had spent in search of Dean, all that darkness and corruption and sin. Balthazar was right. No one knew it as well as him.

"So… you're saying they don't want me dead," he summarized slowly. "They want to force me into helping them." He considered this for a moment, realizing how absurd it sounded. "Raphael must know that this won't work. I will never help him."

Balthazar gave a chuckle in response, which held absolutely no amusement. "Well, I guess you should know how deeply… _persuasive_ they can be. Wouldn't be the first time they used it on you."

Castiel shivered inwardly, remembering the time when he had first wanted to tell Dean everything, let him know about the horrible wrongs that his kind was plotting against him and his brother, the result of which having been the most horrible experience he had ever endured. Yes, heaven could be very persuasive.

"How do you know all this?" he then demanded. "Why should I believe you?"

"Uh, it's a little something I do called connecting the dots and thinking for myself," Balthazar responded, back to his quick-witted self. "You should try it sometime, if you're – you know – not too busy letting your hairless ape do it for you."

Castiel's brow narrowed at the insult, though less for himself as for his friend. He didn't like anyone talking about Dean that way.

After the glare had held for a few moments, Balthazar's gaze suddenly softened again and he looked so compassionate and regretful. "You're gonna have to face it sooner or later, Cassie," he said sadly. "You know too much."

A moment later the softness and intimacy had already disappeared from his features and he was back to his carelessly hopeless state. "You can't stop any of this. It will never stop," he spoke with an air of definite finality, making all of Castiel's carefully built up hope come dangerously close to drowning. "My advice: Grab something valuable and fake your own death. You'll get off lucky, trust me."

Castiel contemplated this for a moment, looking at this heartbreakingly indifferent version of what had once been his favorite brother. It made him so unbelievably sad.

"You know I can't do that," he said quietly. "You may be able to abandon our home and everything we built… but I can't."

Balthazar nodded in understanding. "I know," he responded. "I'm sorry, Cas. All else aside… I'm really, really happy to see you. Even though you still have that stick up your arse."

Castiel stared unhappily at his former friend, not knowing what else to say. He wanted to tell him he was crazy, wanted to beat him for his stupidity and his selfishness in not helping them. He wanted to smile and laugh and wrap his grace around the brother he had believed to be lost until now. He wanted his wings to carry him someplace safe, someplace he could be alone, somewhere he could deal with all this new, horrifying knowledge so it wouldn't make him feel like the whole world was caving in on him.

It was all horribly confusing.

All of a sudden a deep and dangerous rumbling went through the building, making the lights above the two angel's heads flicker and the ground beneath them shake threateningly. It seemed their conversation had just been forced to an abrupt end.

"Was that you?" Balthazar asked casually.

Castiel frowned at him, not really knowing what that question implied and slowly shook his head.

"Oh, that's my queue then," he said cheerfully. "Tell, uh, Raphael… to bite me!"

And with one last smirk and a graceful flutter of his wings, Castiel's long lost brother had once again vanished.


	11. Chapter 10

**Hey guys, I know I've said this before but there's really no saying it enough haha, I wanted to thank you all for all the great reviews and the follows and the favs that I got on this story! :) It means so much knowing that people actually want to read this and it helps encourage me to go on and really want to finish it haha! We've still got quite a while to go til the finish, so I hope you can bear with me ;D Thanks for the support, I love you all ^_^**

**My beta is still on a temporary leave of absense so this is unedited. I did my best, but sorry if there are still errors left ;)**

* * *

_Fucking hell!_ Dean thought when violent tremors started to shake the ground beneath him. He had been searching the ground floor of the large mansion for almost a half an hour and had come up with nothing more than a deadly silent and largely black pit.

He didn't know if Cas had more luck but he figured that the guy would probably come and call him or something if he had been able to locate the douche that was responsible for all this. But now all of a sudden it was like fucking Armageddon in here, with the floor shaking so hard he had to grab hold of a nearby column to not fall over, and furniture rattling and crashing around all over the place.

"Cas?" he called out loudly, trying hard to keep his feet stable. "Cas!"

It felt like he was battling gravity on his own forever, but then suddenly he saw the angel appear right before him, seeming utterly undisturbed by the shaking ground, though his expression was largely agitated and anxious.

"Dean," he said quickly over the loud noise. "We need to go."

"Cas, what"-

He hadn't even noticed the angel reaching out to touch him, but a moment later the rumbling mansion around him was gone and he was greeted by the tranquil silence of a dark room. Just like that the fucker had zapped him again! They hadn't even found the damn angel yet and now he had no idea where he was once more.

It was slightly disorienting to have solid ground beneath his feet again after holding on for dear life to that pillar only moments ago. He stumbled to the side two steps before regaining his balance, looking around in confusion to make out something in the darkness.

"What the"- he murmured, trying to keep his voice down after his previous experience in Monica's apartment. "What's going on, where the hell are we?"

He looked around the room and the more his eyes got used to the darkness, the more the place seemed entirely familiar to him. Before any of them could say anything further, they were both interrupted by a stifled shriek from behind them, a woman's voice that had apparently just noticed the late-night visitors.

Dean instantly shot around into the direction where the sound had come from. "Crap," he murmured and a second later the room was flooded with light, revealing the house corridor right by the front door and the connecting passage to the living room, which was blocked by a very disturbed looking Lisa in her silk bathrobe.

"You – how did you – you," she rambled incoherently, her expression mixing a distraught sense of shock and infuriated discontent. "Where the hell did you come from?"

"Lisa…" Dean said slowly, cautiously, lifting his hands to try and calm her down.

"No, don't _Lisa_ me, Dean, what the hell just happened?" she demanded, looking highly distressed. "You… you were just – I didn't hear the door, you were just there, how the hell did you do that?"

Dean glanced back and forth between her and the door, trying hard to come up with an explanation but failing miserably. She must have been distracted enough to not see them appear out of thin air, but alert enough to realize that they had not entered the house like normal people. He had no idea how he was gonna get out of this one.

"Yeah, ok…" he said slowly. "Here's the thing…" He helplessly looked at her, then back at the door, then down at his hands, then up at her again, but he was miraculously relieved of having to go on when she exclaimed in shock once more.

"What the-" she yelled in agitation, her finger shooting out to point at Cas who was standing silently beside Dean. "You – you were in our bedroom! You… who the hell are you?"

"Lisa, it's ok!" Dean interfered again, now looking back and forth between her and Cas. "It's ok, he's with me!"

Lisa looked incredulous, angry and scared at the same time. "He's – what?" she shouted, her voice bordering on hysterical. "Dean, why is the freak who was in our bedroom _with you_?"

Dean looked over at Cas who was frowning slightly at Lisa with his head cocked sideways, as if he was trying to figure out what this was all about. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Dean tried to explain. "He's… well, it's kind of complicated, but he's my friend." He stopped for a moment and gave her a calculating look. "What are you even doing down here anyway?"

"I knew you were up to something!" she said angrily. "I knew you left again after you didn't come back to bed and I wanted to wait and talk about it, but… I never expected…" She glared at both of them. "So, what, you knew that I wasn't dreaming? You knew that he was really there and chose not to tell me and WOULD YOU FUCKING STOP STARING AT ME?"

Castiel seemed confused at her sudden outburst and looked over at Dean uncertainly. Dean had no idea what to say; his issue of not knowing how to explain this night of being MIA to Lisa had just gotten a hell of a lot more complicated.

"I'm sorry, if I frightened you," Cas said to Lisa, his gravelly voice sounding highly earnest as he took a step forward. "That was never my intention, but I really needed to talk to Dean."

"And you couldn't just zap me downstairs for that?" Dean spat angrily before Lisa had a chance to reply.

Cas looked at him, his trademark confused frown once again visible on his face. "You don't like when I do that," he said as if it were the most logical thing in the world.

"You just zapped me around all evening!" Dean exclaimed, throwing out his arms in disbelief. "Plus again right fucking now!"

"I had to," Cas said simply. "You were in danger."

Before Dean could say anything, they were interrupted by Lisa's angry voice. "You were in danger?" she asked in disbelief, her eyes shooting daggers at both of them.

"Great," Dean grumbled at the angel. "Thanks!"

"Dean, what is going on here?" she wanted to know. "Where were you?"

Dean sighed. "Look, it's kinda complicated…"

"Try me," Lisa growled.

"It's my fault," Cas interrupted them again. "I asked Dean to assist me in my search of some missing weapons."

Dean knew the angel only meant well and wanted to help him, but he instantly felt the urge to facepalm himself as Lisa's expression grew even more distraught.

"Weapons?" she whispered. "What weapons? What for?"

"Cas, would you please stop helping me," Dean growled under his breath, earning himself a confused and, if one looked closely enough, slightly hurt look from the angel. Even in the course of this delicate situation he had noticed that there was something different about Cas than before, something about his aura that seemed slightly troubled or even… _scared_. What had the angel figured out in the mansion that he didn't know about? Why did they have to leave so hastily?

He wanted really bad to ask him, but he couldn't think of a worse possible moment to do it than now. Lisa was freaked out enough, he didn't need her to hear some random chunks of information about heaven and archangels and holy weapons.

"Dean… I thought you were done with hunting," Lisa said quietly and all anger in her voice had now given way concern. "Why… why are you involved with weapons?"

Dean gave her a pleading look, wanting nothing more than to tell her _everything_, but not knowing how to start. "Lisa, it's not what you think…" he said softly. "Look, I swear I can explain…"

She gave him a look that nearly stripped him of all his defenses, a look that was doubtful and worried and pained and so fucking compassionate that he would have preferred to vanish on the spot and never having to deal with this again. From that one look he knew that she knew, knew about all the nights he had spent up downing entire bottles of liquor, driving around on freeways and thrashing at random things, feeling fucking sorry for himself because he was _gone_ and there was nothing he could do about it. She knew and she worried about him and she was just as helpless as he was. She was doubting if she and her kid could really handle this and he couldn't blame her. No one should have to deal with this.

"Dean," Cas interrupted the moment. "I need to leave. They will come after me, I need to leave before they ever know I was here."

Dean shot his friend a gaze that spoke volumes of his concern and his need to help.

The angel gave Lisa a regretful look, revealing how deeply sorry he was for the discomfort he had caused her. "You'll be safe, I promise," he said quietly.

"Cas, wait"-

But he was already gone.

"Dammit," Dean whispered in frustration.

Lisa gasped beside him, her brown eyes widening as they stayed fixed on the spot where the angel had vanished. Now he would really have a lot of explaining to do.

"Dean… who… _what_ is he?" she asked, too confused by all this new information to stay angry any longer. Now she just appeared lost.

Dean sighed, rubbing his hand across his face in exhaustion.

"Let me guess," she huffed with a slightly sarcastic tone. "It's hard to explain."

Before Dean could respond, they were both interrupted by a sleepy voice from the staircase.

"Mom?" Ben asked, squinting in the brightness of the living room as he stepped down to join them in his pajamas, evidently having just crawled out of bed. "What's all the yelling?"

His confused and bleary eyes wandered back and forth between Dean and his mother, only barely registering their agitated and pained faces.

"Nothing, sweetie," Lisa immediately soothed him, plastering a soft and content smile onto her face. "Go back to bed, we're gonna be right up too."

"Ok," Ben murmured vacantly and proceeded to pad back up the stairs.

There was an awkward moment of silence during which both Dean and Lisa avoided each other's gazes, not knowing what to say.

"We should get some sleep," Lisa then said quietly. "We're still gonna talk about this, though."

Dean sighed inwardly, while she passed him to head up the stairs as well, and stared out the window with his green eyes filled with regret, mentally congratulating himself for the awesome job he had once again done in ruining his life.

"Can't wait," he murmured gloomily.

. . .

The next morning came with a highly discomforting awareness, for the moment he woke up Dean remembered everything that awaited him today. The spot in the bed beside him was already empty and the sun outside shone brightly through the curtains, making him realize that his exhaustion from his nightly activities had made him sleep in longer than he had in years.

It was a Saturday, so at least he hadn't missed driving Ben to school, but he still found himself highly nervous as he got out of bed and dressed himself, wondering how he was supposed to explain everything that had happened to Lisa.

He found her alone in the kitchen, washing some dishes and listening to music on the radio. "Morning," he murmured shyly from the entrance, not knowing what to do with himself.

She turned around and gave him a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Morning," she said. "Though it's way past noon by now."

Dean chuckled self-consciously, but didn't know what to say.

"I took Ben over to Rick's," Lisa said a moment later, returning her attention to the plate she was scrubbing. "Remember, cause of the birthday party…"

"Oh, yeah," Dean responded. "That's today, right."

So they were alone, which meant they should probably talk. The only problem was that Dean had no idea where to start or what he should say.

"You want some coffee?" Lisa asked, taking two clean cups from the cupboard when she was done with the dishes.

"Uh, yeah, thanks," Dean murmured, grateful for the distraction.

He sat down at the table and watched her work for a few minutes, before she set down two steaming cups before them and joined him.

"It's good," he said after taking a sip. She ignored him. He couldn't blame her.

They sat in silence for a few moments, each staring intently at their cup while all the unsaid things lingered between them. There had been a few times like this since he moved in, moments when both of them knew about a near breakdown he had suffered the night before, but neither of them had brought it up. None of those times had ever been this uncomfortable, though.

"So, do you wanna start or should I?" Lisa murmured after a few moments, finally looking up at him with pretty, troubled eyes.

"Look, Lisa," he sighed. "About last night…"

"It's not just that," she interrupted him quietly.

"What?" he asked, confusion making its way into his eyes.

"It's not just last night," Lisa explained. "There's… Look, I know there's something going on. I know there are a lot of things you're not telling me."

Dean looked at her beautiful face and saw all the distress there. He saw her concern and her doubts and her desire to help, but he didn't know what to say.

"You never really told me what happened before you showed up here," she went on when she realized he wouldn't speak. "I mean I know it's hard for you and you don't want to talk about it. You… you lost Sam and… I can't even imagine what you're going through. I don't mean to diminish that." Her voice was soft and comforting, but it still didn't ease the pain of any of the words she was saying. "But you have to understand, Dean, that… this isn't easy for me either."

She gave him a look that almost begged him to understand. "I mean, one moment you're basically suicidal and just take off and the next…" She sighed, cutting herself off. "I just wanna know how I can help you," she concluded softly.

Dean hesitated, still staring at his cup and fighting with his guilt of having pulled her so deeply into this. He had never wanted this. He had never wanted her to have to suffer through his pain.

"What do you want me to tell you?" he asked quietly, so quietly it was almost a whisper.

"Everything," Lisa responded earnestly.

Dean shook his head with a pained expression. "No," he decided. "No, I can't do that. Lisa, trust me, some of the things that"- He cut himself off and closed his eyes. "Trust me, you don't want to know."

"Yes, I do," Lisa said softly, her pleading expression not backing down for even a moment. "I can handle it. You think it helps, but not knowing only makes it worse, Dean."

He gave her a troubled gaze, doubt still written plainly across his features. He had really hoped it would never come to this.

"I can handle it," she repeated softly.

With a sigh of defeat Dean finally nodded. "Ok."

. . .

Castiel flitted from place to place, country to country, continent to continent in an effort to shake the pursuers, which had been on his tail since the mansion last night.

He had given up his advantage of having disappeared from the mansion right away by going back and letting Raphael's followers pick up his trail so he could safely lead them in the completely opposite direction of Dean, a fact which he had purposely not mentioned to the hunter before his departure.

His flight across the globe did come at a very inopportune time, for with all the new information Balthazar had given him, he would've preferred to have some time to quietly think everything over instead of having to run for his life.

And as he now knew, it wasn't only his life on the line anymore, it was the lives of most of humanity along with Dean and all his siblings that he cared about, because if they caught him there was no guarantee he wouldn't break. He was proud enough to think he had a chance of withstanding them, but he had also been proud the last time it had happened. He had been so sure of everything he had wanted to say to Dean, so sure of the path he was choosing and within only two days that had all been forced out of him by means too horrible to even contemplate. Of course it had not lasted as he had gone through with his rebellion anyway, but that would do the world little good once Raphael had managed to open the cage.

His only consolation was that he highly doubted his ability to provide Raphael with any useful advantages, seeing as he held absolutely no further knowledge about the cage. Even if they managed to break him, at least it would be only a small benefit for them.

The angel kept running and running, letting his wings carry him as fast and as far as he could, but he had been doing this for so long since he had left heaven for the second time that exhaustion was slowly catching up with him. He didn't know how much longer he could evade them.

They would soon catch up with him.

. . .

The silence in the kitchen was almost tangible while the afternoon sun outside marked how much time had passed. Dean still had the same empty cup before him that he had had hours ago and he was now softly nudging it back and forth on the table.

"So… yeah," he murmured, prodding the cup with his index finger. "That's everything."

"Everything…" Lisa repeated, staring emptily into space. "Whoa."

Dean was scared to look at her, scared that he had traumatized her beyond the possibility of repair. Maybe this had been a mistake.

"And you have no idea when it could happen?" she asked quietly. "Like… the _devil_"- he noticed a slight note of disbelief in her voice, as if she was considering whether not he was crazy – "could be set free at any moment?"

Dean nodded gravely. "Pretty much," he said.

"Do you, I mean do you even know if he – Cas figured out something last night?" she asked uncertainly, brows crinkling in concern.

"No clue," Dean sighed. "I wanted to ask him, but… you know everything just went so fast and yeah, you heard it yourself, then he had to leave so he wouldn't be followed here." He hesitated for a moment, remembering the angel's anxious expression. "I really hope he's ok."

He was surprised to feel the warm touch when she cautiously placed her hand over his. It was neither firm nor confining; he had the feeling that she wouldn't be upset in the slightest if he decided to pull away. It was merely an offering of comfort, a small gesture to show that she was with him, that he had not driven her away with any of the horrible things he had just told her. It was neither too little nor too much; it was perfect.

"Listen, Lis, I'm sorry I just took off last night…" he said quietly, finally daring to look her in the eyes. "He asked for my help and he's – you know… he's Cas. I couldn't say no." At the next thought that popped into his head, Dean immediately let out a small snort. "And believe me, he really needed it! Talking to people… not really his thing."

"Yeah," Lisa huffed in amusement. "Somehow I don't find that hard to imagine."

Dean chuckled, enjoying the warm sensation that coursed through him at something so normal as talking affectionately about his best friend to a woman he obviously had feelings for. A short moment later his expression returned to its serious state. "Look, I wish I could promise that it won't happen again…" he said sadly. "But the truth is, I don't know. I don't know what's gonna happen."

He was shocked at how crestfallen and helpless his own voice sounded and he suddenly realized that he was displaying the same type of hopeless behavior that he had given the angel such a hard time about when he had first come to him. It was so different with Lisa. With everyone else, Sammy, Cas, he always had to be the strong one. He had to be the one that believed they could fix it, the one that gave them all a kick in the ass and push them to what needed to be done when they were down and could see nothing but despair. But with Lisa… he had a chance to show a different side of himself. To show the side of him that was just as hopeless and scared as the fuckers he was trying to take care of. He could show her how damn scared he was and he knew that she wouldn't judge him.

She was the rock that he was clinging to.

He felt the tiny squeeze of her hand against his, showing him that she was here and that she wouldn't leave and he was so unbelievably grateful that she existed. Maybe it hadn't been wrong to tell her after all.

"Thank you," she said softly. "For telling me."

Dean immediately huffed, unable to stop his normal behavior from breaking through. "You shouldn't be thanking me," he said grimly. "God, that was some horrible stuff you had to hear"-

"I know," Lisa cut him off quietly, squeezing his hand again. "I know. I'm not saying it was nice to hear, I know it's horrible. But knowing all of that, knowing what is really happening… It beats being kept in the dark."

And Dean knew that she was right. Hadn't he himself hated that all through his childhood and even in his adult-years? How his Dad had never let him in on anything? Never the big picture, always only the need-to-know-basis. He knew that John had only been doing what he thought was right, but _dammit_, he had hated it. Thinking he would have to kill his baby brother and having now idea why, how and when. Lisa was right. Not knowing sucked.

"You're welcome," he said honestly.

She smiled at him and he smiled back and in that one moment he felt closer to her than he had ever felt to anyone in a long time. He didn't know what he had done to deserve someone like her. In fact, all the things he had done let him to believe that he would _never_ deserve someone like her. But he would take what he could get without complaining.

"So…" Lisa said after a while, her tone taking on a slightly more causal note although still keeping the same level of intimacy. "The party Ben's at it is a sleepover…" She smiled at him and there was a beautiful, glowing joy shining from her eyes. "What do you wanna do tonight?"

Dean stared at her for a moment, not knowing what to say. Had Lisa just asked him out on a date? He was too stunned to even react, cause it was all so wonderfully _normal_ it was too good to be true.

"God, you're staring at me as if you saw a ghost!" Lisa said laughing and then frowned at her own choice of words. "Although, no, you'd probably be less startled by that."

Her laughter was so beautiful Dean couldn't help but smile at her, but he still didn't know what to say. What did normal people usually do on dates? What could you do on a night out?

"Uh… I don't know," he murmured uncertainly, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. Dean Winchester, the self-proclaimed ladies' man had no idea where to take Lisa on a date. "Um, do you wanna go to the movies or something?"

She looked at him for a moment, her smile suggesting that she was thinking about something he obviously hadn't considered. Then she looked down at their linked hands and played idly with his fingers. "Or we could just stay home," she said quietly.

_Oh._

So that's where she was going with this. Dean instantly felt the need to hit himself over the head for not realizing sooner. Damn, what was up with him lately?

"Uh, yeah," he responded. "Or we could do that."

Lisa smiled at him and he actually felt nervous.

. . .

Castiel finally came to a stop on a muddy hillside in Northern Italy. He simply couldn't do it anymore. He had tried so hard, tried everything to get rid of his pursuers, but he had not managed this time, for they had been too close to him from the start. That mixed with the inevitable exhaustion of being on the run for months now made him disappointingly easy to catch.

He barely had time to let the silver handle of his angelic sword slip into his palm before a powerful flutter of wings marked the arrival of the first of his foes.

"You're making a mistake," Castiel whispered as his brother laid eyes on him and started to advance. "Please, there is another way."

He took several cautious steps back as the opposing angel proceeded to advance. "Brother, please," he begged. "I don't want to hurt you."

But it was no use as he had already expected; Raphael's follower gracefully leapt forward, brandishing his own blade and the two swords clashed with an enormous force. The duel was short lived as Castiel had infinitely more experience than his younger brother and so the latter soon fell to the ground, the true form behind his vessel shining out in a searingly blue burst of light.

"Why won't any of you listen?" Castiel exclaimed in desperation, the grief of having killed yet another one of his brothers spreading all throughout his grace.

Not a moment later did he hear the next flutter of wings behind him, but before he had a chance to react he was seized roughly by the arms and yanked backwards.

"They don't listen, Castiel…" the deep voice of Raphael's vessel spoke dangerously close to him. "Because their hearts are mine."

Fear instantly gripped the younger angel, for he had not expected the archangel himself to be so closely in his pursuit. Now he was truly lost.

He felt, more than saw, the presence of three further graces, three of the followers that Raphael had brought along for the chase, before he was pushed forward so violently that he couldn't stop himself from falling and rolling and tumbling all the way down the steep slope of the muddy hill until he crashed through what he could only presume was a withering wooden fence and came to a stop in a pile of broken fragments.

Before he had a chance to move, he felt a forceful kick connect with his vessel's side, doled out by one of the three followers who had already appeared by his side using their wings, and he crumbled in pain. A moment later he was ripped up from the ground by one of his brothers and felt the painfully hard fist of another collide with his jaw and cheeks several times. He kicked out to free himself and used his wings to pull himself out of their grasp, appearing again on the ground where he grabbed his dropped sword and whipped it up just in time to cut into one of his adversaries' arms. The wounded angel stumbled backwards, clutching the radiating cut where his grace was starting to leak out through the vessel.

Castiel jumped up and swung out his sword to meet the one of his second brother but was then struck from behind by the third, therefore stumbling forward and getting beaten to the ground by the two of them once more. He knew why none of them were using their swords. They needed him alive, needed him to provide information of the kind that Balthazar had told him and therefore Raphael had ordered them not to harm him any more than was necessary. Well, for now at least.

When he went to the ground once more, Castiel felt his sword being kicked out of his hand by one of his adversaries and he knew that he had lost. He felt their strong grip on his arms as they pulled him up into a kneeling position to face Raphael, he felt the blood of his vessel run over his face and he knew that he must be a pitiful sight to look upon.

He glared at the archangel for a moment, before opening his mouth to speak. "You can do whatever you want, Raphael," he growled. "I will never help you open the cage."

Unsurprisingly Raphael seemed utterly untouched by this, for he looked very pleased with himself. "Somehow, I don't think God will be interfering with your fate this time," he said.

All Castiel could do was show him his most defiant glare, but before any of them could do anything further there was a sudden flutter of wings, marking the arrival of yet another of their brothers.

"Hey!" Balthazar yelled from behind Raphael and Castiel stared at his friend in disbelief. "Look at my junk."

With those words he raised his fist to show a big glowing crystal that he was holding.

"No," Raphael gasped as the crystal seemed to get brighter and brighter. "No!"

And with a sudden burst of red light that originated from the stone the figures of all but Castiel and Balthazar seemed to dissolve on the spot, blasted away by whatever power the crystal held over them. The red light subsided as quickly as it had come until only the two angels remained on the field opposite of each other, Balthazar still holding the stone with a smug expression and Castiel kneeling on the ground, bloodied and beaten.

"Much more effective than your standard angel sigil," Balthazar chuckled, tossing the crystal once in his hand and then placing it in his jacket pocket. "Banish the poor suckers to whatever dimension you please and enjoy watching them scramble back out of it." He laughed at his own joke and then shrugged. "Won't keep them forever though I'm afraid, cause you know – archangel."

"You came back," Castiel said, still stunned from his brother's appearance. "How… how did you know where I was?"

"As you know I've got a few exciting toys up my sleeve," Balthazar responded, winking at him as Castiel slowly rose to his feet, still slightly unsteady from the beating he had just received. "And of course I did. Couldn't let the bloody bastards get what they wanted, now could I?"

Castiel took a step toward him, his expression earnest and grateful. "Thank you," he said. He remembered only last night having thought that the brother he had once known no longer existed. He had never been happier to be wrong in his life.

"Anytime, Cas," Balthazar responded, smirking slightly to keep his air of indifference upright, even though they both knew he was far from it. "I've had some time to over think the lovely reunion we had last night and… I've decided you're right. You do need my help."

He held out his arms in a celebrating gesture. "So, voilà. Consider me on board."

Castiel gave him the closest thing to a full warm smile he had ever given anyone, as he felt the mutual affection linger between their graces. This was more than he could ever have hoped for when he found out about the missing weapons.

"Thank you," he said once again, wanting Balthazar to know how deeply he owed him.

The latter shrugged. "You're gonna need my help too," he said with a light chuckle, before turning more serious. "There are some ugly things on the horizon, Cassie."

Castiel frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

. . .

Hours later, long after nightfall Dean lay in bed feeling more enthralled than at any other time in life he could remember.

Lisa lay across his chest, breathing deeply and evenly, the atmosphere around them both holding nothing but complete contentment. Maybe she was already asleep, maybe not, he didn't really care. All he cared about was the feel of her body so close to his, her naked bosom pressed against his chest, the beat of his quiet and contended heart against hers. Her disheveled brown locks tickled his nose as he gently buried his face in her hair; it smelled of roses and springtime and that passion fruit-scented shampoo she liked to use. He did not think that he could ever move away even if he wanted to; he could stay like this forever, one arm wrapped around her back, the other lifted up to her face and gently stroking through the tangle of her hair.

She was so beautiful.

Their night together had been so completely wonderful, he didn't even know if the general meaning of the word was sufficient enough to summarize it. Even now he relished every single memory he had, every word, every look on her face, every kiss, every touch. The feel of his lips on hers, the way the sensation of their touching skin had been able to enchant him. He had slept with plenty of women in his life and most of those times had been enjoyable, but none of it even compared to… _this_.

Except maybe Cassie. Cassie was the only other woman he had ever made love to.

Dean looked down at Lisa's relaxed face and wondered what she was thinking. Normally he might've wondered if it had been the same for her, might've thought that it was simply not possible that a woman like her could ever be happy with a mess like him. But strangely now, none of that seemed to bother him. Now all he could do was marvel at the wonder of her being and feel so unbelievably lucky that he was able to be here.

Because what had happened between them, had, for the first time in months made him… _feel_. Feel a connection to someone and to himself and to the world, feel something other than dead.

Ever since Sammy had died he had been a ghost. He knew that he still was, for there was no cure, no long healing period of time for the size of the hole that had been ripped into his being. That would never change. But up until now he had merely drifted, existed, gone through the day as a walking corpse, pretending that he was something other than Sam although he was no more alive than he was. But in that one moment between him and Lisa he had felt _alive_ – even if only for a second.

He had believed to have lost that ability forever, that it had gone down to be locked in the cage along with his baby brother for all eternity. But here he was with this wonderful woman in his arms and for the first time since then it felt like he wanted to be here. That was more than he could ever have wished for.

He knew that it wouldn't last because Sammy was gone and he could never get over something like that. He knew that it wouldn't last because inside he was screwed to hell and messed up and broken into a million pieces. It wouldn't last.

But for now it was enough.

. . .

Rain poured and thunder rumbled across the bleak fields of Stull Cemetery near Lawrence, Kansas. The endless tons of water had churned up the bland grass into a muddy, wet carpet that lay beneath the randomly strewn tombstones.

In the midst of all this a tall man was sprawled on the ground on a center spot of the graveyard, his clothes completely soaked with water and his skin cold to the core. Anyone present might've sworn that he had not been there a few minutes ago, but in the deserted graveyard no one noticed his arrival but him. There were no clues to indicate where he had come from, he might as well have appeared out of thin air.

Peering out through the wet strands of his shaggy brown hair, Sam Winchester lifted his head and pushed himself up off the ground.


	12. Chapter 11

**Yes, this fic has been updated! It's been far too long haha, let's see how Sammy's doing, shall we? ;) Hope you like it!  
**

**Unbetad, so sorry for any errors.**

* * *

Dean was surprised to see how little his extraordinary good mood had changed by Sunday morning. He woke up still in the afterglow of what last night had offered him and wasn't even all too shocked at how unbelievably _girly_ that sounded.

He and Lisa got up together and decided to have a large breakfast before it was time for her to go pick up Ben. They very much enjoyed themselves in the kitchen, joking around and having more fun than the hunter could remember having in a long time.

"I do love a man who can cook," Lisa said teasingly when Dean served her his usual pan of scrambled eggs. He couldn't help but chuckle and leaned in to give her a short kiss on the lips.

During the meal Lisa started bringing up the topic of Ben's birthday that was now less than two weeks away and Dean realized that it was an event he was particularly excited for. Not only would it again be a day that underlined the increasing normalcy of his life, but it also brought about the memory of how he had first met the boy a few years ago. Thinking about the small kid that had been so excited over AC/DC and realizing how well he was starting to know Ben now… it made him feel incredibly warm inside.

After they had finished washing the dishes together, Lisa got ready to leave. She was planning on picking up Ben from his party and going shopping with him right after, so Dean would have the house to himself for a few hours.

When she had finally closed the door behind her, the hunter opened the door to the fridge and glanced quickly at his case of beer, only to decidedly pull out a bottle of coke instead. Wow, this was all having such a great influence on him! He hardly recognized himself.

He paced around the house feeling fairly good about himself and wondered how he could spend his time until Lisa got back. There was always housework that needed to be done, stuff out in the shed that needed repairing. The mechanics job from one of her neighbors, which he had been working for a while now meant that he had less time around the house to be helpful. But if he was completely honest with himself, he felt sort of lazy, which was a totally foreign experience to him.

He had just started to make himself comfortable in one of the armchairs in the living room when he heard a knock on the front door. Maybe he had thought himself off the hook too soon, cause Sid sometimes decided to stop by at weekends, feeling like he needed to help Dean integrate himself into the community.

Sighing in defeat, the hunter put down his glass and got back to his feet to head over to the door. He quickly pulled it open and froze on the spot when he gazed upon who was waiting on the other side.

_…_

_What?_

_No._

_This… huh?_

Green eyes wide in shock and every part of his body completely paralyzed, Dean stared ahead at the tall figure of his little brother. His clothes were slightly muddy and his long hair was incredibly mussed up and untidy, but beyond that it was just… _Sam_. Sam looking stunned, as if he hadn't been sure Dean would really be here, and somewhat wary, unsure of what reaction to expect.

"Hey, Dean," he said quietly.

No. No, this wasn't happening. He was seeing stuff or dreaming. He must've thought himself happy too soon, he was probably still in bed and having a new type of nightmare. It couldn't be real, but it felt so real and what the hell was happening? This wasn't Sammy, it couldn't be.

Dean realized only now that his unbreakable state of shock had prevented the instinctive hunter's reaction he should've displayed right away. He should've pulled back instantly, drawn his gun, splashed some holy water, anything. Even now he was supposed to do it. Why the hell wasn't he doing it? And why wasn't Sam – no, it couldn't be Sam – why wasn't this impostor attacking him?

"This is… No, you"- Dean continuously cut himself off while trying to say something. He hadn't even realized that he was slowly backing away until the Sammy-impostor lifted both of his hands, as if to show that he meant now harm.

"Dean, wait, it's ok," he said soothingly. "It's me!"

As if the outrageous lie had suddenly managed to snap him out of his trance-like state of shock, Dean immediately jolted back and reached behind himself to pull out his gun, only to come up empty. Damn his suburbanly weakening instincts! He had been so cheerfully distracted when getting up that he hadn't even thought of bringing his gun down with him.

Instead he jumped over to a nearby shelf and reached for a bottle of holy water he still knew he had placed there, just in case.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Sam yelled when Dean opened the bottle and splashed a big amount of water at him. "Whoa, whoa, man! Not a demon!"

Dean stared at the figure of his little brother, once again shocked at the fact that this had triggered no reaction. Dammit, if he was a shifter then he had absolutely no defense, he didn't even know if any of Lisa's knives were silver.

"Hold on, Dean, please!" Sam begged him. "It's me, I swear, I can prove it!" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver blade. "Here, let me save you the trouble…" he murmured while rolling up his sleeve and cutting himself across the forearm, revealing his crimson red blood. "See? All me."

The half empty bottle of holy water still clutched firmly in his grip, Dean stood there staring at the man so perfectly resembling his brother, mouth and eyes ripped wide open. It seemed to him like the rational part of his brain had already realized what the rest of him was still trying to process. No signs for anything supernatural… ergo… this had to be Sam.

It couldn't be Sam. No, Sammy was down in the cage, tormented and suffering and locked away forever. For a horrible fraction of a second Dean considered that this could be Lucifer and an icy chill ran down his back at the thought of it. But that didn't make any sense whatsoever, Lucifer would have no reason to try and convince him that he was Sam. He'd have crushed him like a bug before he had even finished opening the door.

Slowly a painful yet strangely wonderful prickling sensation started to spread throughout the hunter's whole body and he felt the shock slowly ease away from his muscles. Instead he felt numb and detached and incredibly _unreal_, because this wasn't happening, it couldn't. And yet Sam was there, right in front of him, waiting patiently for him to decide on a reaction.

After what seemed like an eternity, Dean slowly lowered the bottle.

"Sammy?" he whispered disbelievingly, eyes still wide-open from surprise and awe.

Sam showed a small smile. "Yeah," he responded. "It's me."

He hadn't even noticed himself moving, but only a second later Dean had closed the distance between himself and his very real baby brother and pulled him into his arms. The prickling sensation exploded tenfold over his body and his grip grew tighter and tighter around Sam, as if he was afraid that at any moment he could cease to be here.

He couldn't believe this was real. Sammy was here, he was really _here_.

"Dean…" his brother's voice sounded surprisingly strained. "Dean – can't – breathe…"

It took Dean a few moments before he realized what his brother was saying, for he was still too amazed at the sensation of feeling him so near again. But then his brain finally registered the meaning of the cut off words and he quickly pulled back. "Oh," he said confusedly while withdrawing his arms. "Sorry…"

Sam smirked in response and gave a slight shake of his head to indicate that it was ok.

"I…" Dean murmured, still staring at his brother's face in awe. "I can't believe it, man, you're – you're really here. How…?"

"I know," Sam chuckled in agreement. "It's crazy, right?"

"Yeah." Dean finally allowed himself to smile. The initial shock and disbelief were slowly but surely transforming into a feeling of marvelous joy and happiness. How he had felt last night with Lisa was nothing compared to this, _nothing_.

But as everything else that had been a part of his life, the ever-present shadow of doubt did not remain hidden even from this situation. He felt more real and alive and whole than he had since the day his brother had taken the plunge, yet his confused mind was already scrambling through all the open questions.

"But… wait a minute," Dean murmured, still unable to remove his wide-open eyes from his brother's face. "You – you… you were" – his mind seemed to replay the gut-wrenching scene of Sammy's leap into the cage a hundred times before his inner eye – "you were gone, man. I mean, that…" He shook his head with a sigh of disbelief. "That was it. How the hell are you"-

Sam interrupted him with a slight huff. "I have no idea," he said honestly. "I don't know."

Dean scowled at him. "What do you mean, you don't know?"

"I mean, no idea," Sam repeated patiently. "I-I'm just… back."

Dean's scowl grew even deeper at that, for as thrilled as he was at the fact that his brother was standing before him, mysterious resurrections seldom tended to be a good thing. "Well, was it God…?" he asked uncertainly. "Or –or " – his next thought made him hesitate slightly – "or Cas?" Even though he found it kind of hard to believe that Cas would've done something to raise Sam without telling him about it, he had to consider all possible options. "I mean, does Cas know anything about it?"

"You tell me," Sam shrugged. "I called him a few times on my way over here, but… Cas isn't answering my prayers. I don't even know where he is."

"Well, nobody does, really," Dean felt compelled to explain. "He's on the run, you know, he pretty much had to ditch everything…"

This seemed to surprise Sam. "Really?" he wanted to know, displaying a highly curious expression. "Why? What happened this time?"

_This time_. There was something so distant and indifferent about his brother's choice of words that it added even more to Dean's confusion with the whole situation. But hell, what did he know, the guy had just come back from the cage! One couldn't go through something like that and come back the same way; in fact he seemed remarkably well under the circumstances.

"Eh, pissed off another archangel," Dean waved the question loosely aside with his hand. "First things first, dude, what happened? I mean, how did you…?"

"I don't know, it was weird, man," Sam responded, brow furrowing pensively. "I mean, I was… down there… and then, next minute, it's raining and I'm lying in that field, alone."

"So what, you… you just zapped back to the field straight from the cage?" Dean asked with an equal amount of disbelief. "How the hell does that work?"

"I-I guess so," he shrugged helplessly. "Dean, if I had any idea, I'd tell you."

Dean nodded, trying to calm himself down so he wouldn't already start ranting at his newly resurrected brother. Now that his brain was starting to act more rational again, he found himself worrying more and more about the damage that his brother was so obviously hiding from him. He remembered only too well that when he had returned from hell himself, he had been determined to pretend like he hadn't just spent thirty years being ripped apart and another ten ripping other people apart in his mind, to himself as well as everybody else. He absolutely didn't want Sammy to do the same, he wanted him to talk to him and be helpful in any way he could. But from the relaxed and casual behavior that his brother was displaying now, there was just no way to tell what sorts of horrible things had happened to him.

"Are…" he started hesitantly. Damn, he had no idea what to say. "Sammy, are you ok?"

Sam sighed and to Dean's surprise also added a slight shrug. "Yeah," he nodded. "Yeah, I think so."

"Do you remember it?" The question was out of Dean's mouth before he had even really considered it and he immediately felt bad for his blunt approach on the subject. Even if he wanted to be able to help Sam, he knew that this was probably the last thing his brother wanted to think about.

"What?" Sam asked, though Dean wasn't sure if he really hadn't understood the question or if he was just buying time.

"The Cage," Dean explained quietly, paying close attention to his brother's face.

The reaction wasn't that big however. Sam hesitated for a few moments and looked down at the ground, before meeting his brother's gaze calmly. "Yeah."

Dean waited for him to elaborate further, but nothing came. After remaining silent for a while, he softly tried to nudge him. "You want to"-

"No," Sam immediately cut him off.

Dean nodded in understanding, realizing that this was not the best moment to make his brother talk. "Well, if anyone can relate…" he reminded him encouragingly.

"I know," Sam responded calmly. "But, Dean, I don't want to talk about it. I mean, I'm back, I'm alive… I get to see you again. Why exactly would I wanna think about hell?"

"Yeah," Dean murmured. "Yeah, I get it. I… you know, I just thought I could help…" He shook his head slightly and looked at his brother, still awe-stricken. Even after this whole conversation he could hardly believe that this was real, that Sam was really here. "I just… wow," he chuckled, trying hard not to let his emotions get the best of him. "I can't believe you're here!"

"I know," Sam smiled as well. "Tell me about it."

The two of them just stood there for a moment, looking at each other. Dean only now noticed that they were still standing in the hallway with the door wide-open behind Sam, for neither of them had thought of closing it. When he had passed his brother to finally shut the door, he felt a bubble of cheerful laughter rise in his throat and he was surprised at how amazingly authentic it seemed.

He slapped Sammy on the back while enjoying what it felt like to genuinely _laugh_ and continued grinning at him. "I could use a drink!" he chuckled. "What do ya say?"

"You and me both," Sam responded with a chuckle of his own.

After Dean had gotten them both a beer from the refrigerator, Sam settled in at Lisa's kitchen table and looked expectantly at his brother.

"So, do you have any idea what could've brought me back?" he wanted to know. "I'd go looking myself, but… you know, kinda hard to look for what resurrected you when you got no leads."

Dean frowned disapprovingly. "Sammy, what the hell are you talking about? You're not going looking by yourself, dude!" he demanded in a slightly scolding tone. "That's what I'm here for, remember?"

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, 'course, Dean," he agreed. "What's been going on up here? Is there anything here that, you know, could be connected to this?"

Dean sighed while taking a big mouthful of his beer. "It's been fucking crazy, man!" he responded after swallowing. "You remember how you and me thought we'd be through with angels after shutting the cage?" Sam nodded. "Well, dream on. Dicks are more annoying than ever, keep wanting to get their freak-show back on the road."

"So, what?" Sam asked, frowning slightly. "They're trying to go through with the apocalypse anyway?"

Dean gave a humorless laugh in response, half of his bottle already downed. "Yep… Cas and a few of his buddies wanna stop it from happening, but yeah, you can imagine how that's going. I'd say right about now he's heaven's most wanted, and it ain't pretty Bon-Jovi style!" He hesitated for a moment, thinking about the angel. "We should call him," he decided. "If this has anything to do with those frickin' angels, I bet you he'd know! We need to talk to him."

"Well, that's great, Dean," Sam huffed in fake amusement. "Except I already called him. The son of a bitch isn't answering."

Dean sighed and ignored his brother's doubts, stubbornly sticking to his decision. He braced his hands on the counter and lowered his head, closing his eyes as he started his sort-of-praying. "Cas," he said. "You there?" He pretended not to hear his brother's amused snickering. "Hey, listen, I know you're probably busy with running your ass away from Raphael and all, but… if you got a second – Sammy's back, man!"

The words burst out of him with so much hope and he turned away, as if he was trying to make the prayer more private between the angel and himself even if Sam could still hear him perfectly. "I don't know how, but… he's here, sprung free from the cage and everything. Maybe you already know this, but… yeah, we're kinda freaked" – he chuckled darkly, despite his excitement – "we have no idea what's going on, so, I don't know, maybe you could give us some answers?"

He opened his eyes to look around the kitchen, but it was still only Sam and him. "You know, or just suggestions?" he tried again, not closing his eyes but looking upward in a skyward direction. "Just pop in for a sec, please. We could really use your help."

Sam expectantly looked back and forth between his brother and the empty space next to the table, but there was no flutter of wings, no sudden appearance of a beige trench coat. Feeling slightly frustrated at his friend, Dean spoke again. "Cas, please!" he said loudly with a mixture between anger and disappointment.

But the angel didn't show.

"Well, so much for that," Sam sighed. "Guess, we're on our own."

"Son of a bitch," Dean murmured sourly. He couldn't deny that he was disappointed at Cas for not showing up now of all times. Didn't he know just how important this had to be for Dean? How freaked out he had to be? How desperately he wanted to know that everything was ok with Sam?

He was stunned at himself after the third question crossed his mind. It was like he had just mentally slipped, for up until that point he had stubbornly not allowed himself to consider the fact that there might be something wrong with his brother. He was too happy to have him back, too utterly thrilled at the fact that he was here to allow himself any doubts. He longed to be absolutely worry-free, even if it was just for a little while. But still that small seed of doubt had already managed to plant itself into his brain.

Well, it was only normal. He was Sammy's big brother and the dude had just been stuck in the cage for fucking months! It was his job to worry.

"All right, you know what?" Dean then decided into the silence. "Screw this. We are getting some answers!" Sam looked almost amused at his stubborn decisiveness. "If Cas can't give 'em to us?" he went on, shrugging indifferently. "We're gonna have to get them ourselves!"

Sam pursed his lips in an amused expression and nodded, but looked surprised when Dean put away his bottle and started moving toward the door. "Wait," he stopped him. "Where – where are we going?"

"To someone who can give us answers," Dean responded smirking, cocking his eyebrow playfully at his little brother. "Let's go!"

Rolling his eyes at his determined brother, Sam laughed while rising up from the table and followed Dean out the door.


End file.
